-^P(^7~2-' 


THE   NEW  SENIOR 
AT  ANDOVER 


BY 

HERBERT  D.  WARD 


Illustrated 


BOSTON 
D.    LOTHROP    COMPANY 

WASHINGTON   STREET  OPPOSITE    BROMFIBLD 


COPYRIGHT,  1891, 

BV 
HERBERT  D.  WARD. 


To  my  Wife. 


2072218 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

ANDOVER   AHOY! II 

CHAPTER   II. 

THE   DORMITORIES 27 

CHAPTER   III. 

THE   STRUGGLE    FOR    EXISTENCE      ...  44 

CHAPTER   IV. 

DIAMOND   CUT   DIAMOND  ....  64 

CHAPTER  V. 

AN    AUTUMNAL    HAZE 72 

CHAPTER   VI. 

A   PUSH   AND   A   POSER 88 

CHAPTER  VII. 

WHO   CHEATED? 107 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

A   WINTER    SPREE. 123 

CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    LEVEE 142 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  X. 

POOR   DOC.  ! 164 

CHAPTER  XL 

"SCIRE  EST  REGERE"  .....         183 
CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    FIRST   ANEMONE 205 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

PHILLIPS   VS.    EXETER 228 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   VICTORY 249 

CHAPTER  XV. 

GOOD-BY 267 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

JOHN   CALVIN   SOLVES   THE   PROBLEM       .  .  29 1 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

DEAR   OLD   ANDOVER  ! 315 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Uncle  Jim's  and  the  Academy       ....      Frontis. 

John  Strong 13 

Latin  Commons 30 

Father  Lambkin  proposes  the  toast  to  Mrs.  Grooge 

—  and  Kitty 39 

Theological  Seminary 47 

On  the  famous  elm-tree  avenue 53 

"  Twenty  marks,  sir !  to  what  class  do  you  belong,  sir  ?"  59 

In  the  pallid  light  produced  by  alcohol  and  salt  .         .  75 

The  Gym.      .........  93 

The  girl  with  a  quick  motion  flung  off  a  sealskin  cape 

and  handed  it  to  John 113 

The  "  Fern.  Sem." 149 

John  Calvin  finds  a  friend    ......  171 

John  gives  Miss  Selfrich  the  flower      .         .        .        .  219 

The  theologue  jumped.     So  did  the  dog      .        .        .  253 

The  chapel 281 

"  I'm  glad  you're  here,  Mr.  Lambkin"          .        .        .  295 


NOTE. 

neighbors,  and  offered  no  criticisms  on  his  old  hosts 
and  friends.  In  regard  to  the  one  character  of  the 
story  which  might  be  interpreted  as  historic,  it  is 
perhaps  just  to  say  that  the  author  never  knew  him 
except  through  his  forcible  reputation.  For  this 
reason  the  sketch  is  not  a  portrait,  but  an  imagina- 
tive outline  which  the  pupils  and  admirers  of  Uncle 
Jim  will  fill  out  affectionately  each  for  himself. 

The  present  admirable  management  of  the  Com- 
mons Dining  Hall,  which  it  would  be  impossible  to 
confuse  with  that  of  a  by-gone  day,  has  left  the 
author  scope  for  a  snap-shot  view  of  the  Club 
of  twenty  years  ago,  and  even  of  a  later  day,  when 
all  fitting  schools  were  less  highly  civilized  than 
they  are  now. 

With  his  personal  opinion  of  the  Academy's 
eleven  dormitories,  the  author  is  confident  that  all 
true  friends  of  Andover,  old  or  young,  heretical  or 
orthodox,  dead  or  living,  will  heartily  sympathize. 

It  only  remains  to  add  that  the  author  is  aware 
how  far  he  has  fallen  below  the  requirements  of 
modern  boys'  fiction  in  not  having  made  his  hero  an 
attractive  madcap.  Yet  he  hopes  there  may  be  found 
readers  who  will  take  some  interest  in  the  history  of 
a  boy  who  did  not  find  it  necessary  to  disgrace  him- 


NOTE. 

self  or  old  Andover.  In  the  tense  reality  of  school- 
life  scrapes  are  not  heroic.  The  larger  half  (if  the 
arithmetical  parodox  may  be  permitted)  of  our  Amer- 
ican boys  have  plain,  sturdy,  studious,  manly  quali- 
ties which  the  struggle  for  Academic  existence  de- 
velops, and  which  Phillips  Academy  vigorously  cul- 
tivates. Every  reader  will  recall  some  brave  and 
quiet  fellow  who  battled  his  way  through  an  educa- 
tion without  a  patron  or  an  interpreter. 

H.  D.  W. 


THE     NEW 
SENIOR     AT     ANDOVER 


CHAPTER   I. 

ANDOVER    AHOY ! 

A  NDOVER!  All  out  for  Andover ! "  sang 
/l^.  out  the  conservative  Boston  &  Maine 
brakeman.  As  he  threw  open  the  door  of  the 
heated  car  a  welcome  breath  of  air  blew  in  the 
face  of  a  young  fellow  who  had  been  looking 
longingly  out  of  the  window  ever  since  the 
train  had  left  Lawrence ;  and  now  and  then 
rather  wistfully  at  a  group  of  boys  apparently 
oblivious  of  his  presence.  He  had  not  heard 
their  comments  as  they  ran  like  this: 

"  Rather  old  looking  for  a  Prep." 

"Perhaps  he  enters  Theologue." 

"  Bet  you  a  soda  he  goes  Middler." 


12  ANDOVER     AHOY ! 

"Bet  you  he's  a  new  Senior." 

"Done!" 

"Done!" 

After  the  rollicking  boys  had  rushed  out,  this 
young  gentleman  grasped  a  battered  carpet-bag, 
and  by  the  aid  of  a  stick  limped  down  upon  the 
platform.  Eight  or  ten  boys  had  come  on  this 
train  and  these  were  already  piled  in  and  on 
the  old  stage-coach  which  bore  on  the  outside 
the  elaborate  and  doubtfully  classic  motto,  "  Pro 
Bono  Puplicko,"  which  was  said  to  have  been 
touched  up  by  an  extinct  Middle  class  in  a 
moment  of  hilarity. 

As  this  lame  lad  came  up  the  platform  to 
hunt  for  his  trunk,  he  was  suddenly  seized  by 
a  bright,  smooth-faced  man  with  an  obvious 
badge  upon  his  hat :  "  Here  you  are,  sir ;  take 
you  up  and  bring  your  trunk,  all  for  a  quarter." 

"That's  right,  Pete,  rope  him  in  and  hurry 
up  about  it ;  we  can't  sit  here  all  day." 

The  voice  that  spoke  was  careless  and  some- 
what contemptuous.  The  speaker  was  perched 
outside  of  the  vehicle  on  the  driver's  seat  and 
was  lightly  smoking  a  cigarette. 


ANDOVER    AHOY ! 


"  Oh  !  hold  up,  Selfrich,  give  him  time  ;  can't 
you  see  he  ain't  as  fast  as  you  are?"  sung  out 
somebody  from  the 
inside.  A  laugh 
arose,  and  one 
could  hardly  tell 
whether  it  were 
at  the  expense  of 
the  fellow  on  the 
box-seat,  or  of  the 
boy  in  Pete's 

clutches. 

"  I  am  to  live  in 
Latin  Commons, 
but  I  don't  know 
which  room  yet." 

This   voice   was 
deep    and    sympa- 
thetic.    The   eyes 
looked  Pete  quizzi- 
cally in  the  face  as  J°HN  STRONG. 
much  as  to   say,  "  Do  you  think  that  with  all 
your  cleverness  you  can  prophesy  which  room 
to  take  me  to  ?  " 


14  ANDOVER    AHOY ! 

"  Get  in,  and  I'll  take  you  to  Uncle  Jim's  ; 
will  bring  your  trunk  up  later,"  Pete  answered, 
not  at  all  abashed. 

"All  right,"  replied  his  willing  victim  as  he 
approached  the  coach.  Now  the  body  of  the 
coach  was  crammed  full,  and  there  was  only  one 
seat  left  on  top,  up  two  flights  of  iron  steps, 
each  just  big  enough  for  one  foot.  The  boys 
looked  at  the  hesitating  fellow  as  he  glanced 
appealingly  into  the  inhospitable  interior,  and 
up  the  Alpine  heights. 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  climb  up  there ;  I'm 
lame,  you  know." 

In  truth,  one  of  the  boy's  legs  was  thin  and 
spindling.  The  trousers  flapped  in  the  wind 
around  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  small  liberty  pole. 
It  was  a  sad  sight.  The  lad's  face  was  sturdy 
and  manly,  so  were  his  chest  and  body,  so  was 
his  whole  right  side  ;  but  paralysis  had  set  in 
from  his  left  hip  down.  He  had  been  in  this 
condition  since  he  was  a  very  little  child.  He 
had  walked  with  a  crutch  all  his  life  until  now. 
But  he  thought  that  his  future  classmates  would 
laugh  at  a  boy  with  a  crutch,  so  he  had  replaced 


ANDOVER   AHOY!  15 

it  with  a  stick.  His  mother  said  he  was  foolish 
to  do  so,  he  would  suffer  so  much.  And  suffer 
the  poor  boy  did,  as  he  balanced  himself  with 
unaccustomed  effort  on  his  hooked  cane.  The 
perspiration  came  out  on  his  forehead.  He 
shut  his  teeth  tightly  and  only  smiled  and  said : 

"  Perhaps  some  fellow  will  give  me  his  seat 
inside,  and  sit  on  top  ?  It  is  hard  for  me  to 
climb."  Not  a  soul  budged. 

"  Oh  !  hurry  up,  Sonny.  Do  you  hear  ? 
Hurry  up  ! "  It  was  the  same  Selfrich  that 
spoke.  He  looked  as  if  he  could  have  taken 
the  reins  in  hand  and  driven  over  the  silent 
youth. 

"  Well,  I'll  try.  Will  you  help  me  ?  "  The 
lame  boy  turned  to  Pete,  the  driver,  who  said  : 

"You  fellers  ought  to  give  him  room  in  there, 
don't  you  see  he  can't  climb  ? " 

Why  is  it  that  boys  are  blind  to  pain  and  act 
like  brutes  ?  And  yet  when  thought  overtakes 
them  they  can  be  as  tender  as  angels. 

Just  at  this  critical  moment  a  face  craned 
itself  far  out  of  the  window,  and  ejaculated  : 

"  Hey,  you,  what  class  ?  " 


l6  ANDOVER    AHOY  ! 

"  I'm  entering  the  Senior  class,"  answered 
the  perplexed  boy. 

"What's  your  name?"  The  speaker  again 
poked  his  face  out  of  the  coach.  The  most  prom- 
inent feature  on  it  was  a  huge  pair  of  gilt 
spectacles  which  mighv  have  belonged  at  some 
prehistoric  time  to  an  antediluvian  theological 
professor.  The  next  thing  visible  was  the 
nose  on  which  they  were  securely  perched.' 
This  nose  was  long  and  lean,  with  staccato-like 
bumps  along  its  ridge ;  these  ended  in  a  posi- 
tive rise.  It  was  so  arranged  by  nature  that  if 
the  spectacles  slipped  down  they  could  by  no 
means  of  their  own  slip  entirely  off.  These 
eccentricities  of  appearance  were  crowned  by 
a  head  which  had  just  been  treated  to  an  eighth 
of  an  inch  cut.  A  white  felt  hat  completed 
the  picture. 

"  Can't  you  leave  off  chaffing,  Doc.  ?  "  an- 
other voice  spoke  from  within.  "  Give  him 
your  seat  and  be  clone  with  it." 

The  fellow  called  "Doc."  laughed  merrily, 
jumped  out  and  said  : 

"There,  get   in.     If  I'd   known   you  were  a 


ANDOVER   AHOY!  17 

reverend  Senior  I'd  have  done  it  before.  I 
have  a  great  respect  for  the  Senior  class,  except 
for  that  fellow,  Selfrich,  who  is  mean  enough 
to  eat  dirt." 

"Thank  you,"  said  our  lame  friend  as  he 
carefully  took  the  vacant  place.  "  I  hope  we 
shall  know  each  other  better."  Then  the  coach 
impatiently  rolled  up  the  hill,  bearing  within  it 
one  who  had  left  a  dear  home,  and  was  feeling, 
in  spite  of  his  composure,  as  if  he  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  Philistines. 

He  sat  quietly  looking  out  on  the  houses  as 
they  flitted  past.  What  was  his  fate  to  be  in 
that  new  world  he  had  entered  ?  How  insig- 
nificant became  the  New  Hampshire  academy 
which  he  had  left !  How  overwhelming  seemed 
to  him  the  faces  of  the  strange  boys  as  they 
flocked  into  the  post-office,  as  they  walked  up 
the  street !  They  dazed  our  wondering  lad,  and 
he  clutched  his  stick  in  momentary  terror  to 
think  that  he  had  to  compete  against  all  these, 
make  his  way  and  force  his  place  where  no  one 
cared  for  him  or  seemed  to  want  him.  But  the 
town  looked  bright,  attractive  and  healthy,  and 


l8  ANDOVER     AHOY ! 

in  the  fall  haze  the  white-painted  houses  seemed 
cool  and  comfortable.  All  at  once  he  gave  a 
start.  A  red  flag  waved  conspicuously  from  a 
post  in  front  of  a  very  white  house.  The  green 
blinds  were  drawn.  Farther  up  the  street,  on 
the  other  side,  he  could  see  another  blood-red 
banner.  Small-pox  in  town  !  That  dreadful 
disease  in  Andover !  The  papers  had  not  men- 
tioned it.  He  was  glad  his  mother  knew  noth- 
ing about  it.  Perhaps  the  school  would  not 
open.  He  looked  at  the  faces  of  the  boys,  but 
they  seemed  oblivious  of  their  danger.  The 
coach  came  to  a  stop  before  a  house  bearing 
the  fever  signal  attached  to  a  post  in  front. 
The  coachman  took  the  flag  and  waved  it  in 
the  air.  The  boys  gave  a  cheer  as  one  of  their 
number  stepped  down  and  nonchalantly  swag- 
gered into  the  plague-stricken  house.  When 
Pete  came  back  our  friend  plucked  up  courage 
to  ask  him  : 

"  Is  there  much  small-pox  in  town  ?  There 
are  a  good  many  red  flags  out."  A  roar 
drowned  the  poor  boy's  last  words.  That  was 
almost  the  last  straw,  that  these  new  school- 


ANDOVER     AHOY !  19 

mates  of  his  should  joke  in  the  face  of  death. 
But  relief  came  soon.  One  of  the  boys  ex- 
plained as  soon  as  he  could  stop  laughing,  that 
these  were  coach  signals.  Red  flags  were  put 
out  when  the  "Townies"  wanted  the  coach  to 
stop.  Our  hero  joined  briskly  in  the  laugh  at 
his  own  expense.  At  this  moment  the  coach 
came  to  a  jolting  halt. 

"Here  you  are  at  Uncle  Jim's.  All  out  for 
Uncle  Jim's!" 

Pete  swung  himself  down  from  the  box. 
Selfrich  stared  impatiently  while  the  coachman 
helped  the  halting  boy  out  and  gave  him  his 
old  valise.  As  John  Strong  put  his  cane  under 
his  arm  to  pay  his  fare,  he.  was  surprised  to  see 
Doc.  beside  him. 

"  What's  your  name  ?  "  asked  the  queer  boy. 

"John  Strong." 

"(Well,  John  Strong  —  an  awfully  funny  name 
for  this  chappie,"  he  uttered  under  his  breath  — 
"give  me  your  bag  and  I'll  see  you  to  Uncle 
Jim  Tyler's  ;  I'm  his  favorite."  His  eyes 
winked  ferociously.  His  hat  made  desperate 
efforts  to  stick  on.  He  was  so  awkward,  yet 


2O  ANDOVER    AHOY ! 

so  good-natured,  so  ridiculous  and  so  jovial, 
that  John  Strong  liked  him. 

"  Good-by,  Stumpy."  It  was  Selfrich  who 
added  this  parting  shot  as  the  stage  swung  off. 
"Good-by,  Doc.  Goggles." 

"  Selfrich  can't  leave  a  fellow  alone,"  said 
Doc.  as  he  grasped  the  bag  and  led  the  way. 

"Say,"  said  John's  strange  conductor,  "you're 
not  easily  scared,  are  you?  Uncle  Jim's  power- 
ful hard  on  new  ones.  He  grinds  'em.  I've 
been  here  these  five  years  and  am  used  to 
him.  My  father  was  his  classmate.  He  don't 
scare  me.  You  just  speak  right  up  and  keep  a 
stiff  upper  lip.  Here  we  are,"  he  added,  as 
they  came  to  the  dooc. 

It  was  a  brick  house,  one  of  two  built  to- 
gether. The  front  door  was  wide  open,  and 
Doc.  walked  confidently  in,  put  the  bag  down 
in  the  hall,  and  after  a  long  breath  which  seemed 
to  give  him  courage,  climbed  the  hard  stairs 
and  knocked  at  the  door  of  a  room  whence  gruff 
sounds  came  sounding  to  the  awe-struck  boys 
like  the  intermittent  growls  from  a  menagerie. 

"  Come  in  !  come  in  !     There,  there,  you  can 


ANDOVER   AHOY!  21 

go  now,"  said  the  huge  voice  to  a  small  boy 
who  seemed  shivering  under  the  tempestuous 
onset. 

"  Whom  have  we  here  ?  Ah,  Shelby  !  Back 
again,  sir  ?  This  is  your  last  Middle  year,  do 
you  hear,  sir  ?  "  wiping  his  hot  forehead.  "  Sir  ! 
how  does  your  father"  — 

The  Principal  recollected  himself  just  in  time. 
It  was  not  necessary  for  Doc.  to  say,  "  My 
father  died  this  summer."  Uncle  Jim,  con- 
scious of  his  narrow  escape,  crimsoned  with 
embarrassment  and  looked  at  the  orphan  as  if 
either  death  or  the  boy  had  taken  him  in  on 
purpose.  "  But,"  continued  the  lad,  relieving 
the  tension  of  the  situation  with  unexpected 
tact,  "  I've  brought  a  new  Senior.  Mr.  Strong, 
Dr.  Tyler;  Dr.  Tyler,  Mr.  Strong."  The  spec- 
tacles gave  a  hop.  They  seemed  discouraged 
at  the  prospect  of  not  sliding  off,  and  then 
subsided.  One  hand  clutched  the  white  hat, 
while  the  other  pushed  John  Strong  and  his 
wilted  leg  and  stout  stick  forward  into  the 
redoubtable  presence. 

The  Principal  of  Phillips  Andover  Academy, 


22  ANDOVER    AHOY ! 

Dr.  James  Tyler,  known  familiarly  to  every- 
body in  town  and  out  as  "  Uncle  Jim,"  stood 
in  front  of  his  desk.  He  was  a  middle-sized, 
middle-aged  man,  quite  stout,  and  very  imposing. 
He  wore  glasses,  a  smooth  face,  and  profuse 
gray  hair.  His  whole  appearance  gave  the 
first  impression  of  leonine  power.  His  set 
lips  told  the  story  of  his  sternness ;  but  his 
deeply-sunken  eyes  showed  good-nature,  an  ap- 
preciation of  humor  and  quick  nervous  deter- 
mination. John  Strong  stood  before  him. 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  The  two 
looked  at  each  other.  The  Doctor's  gaze 
bored  the  youth  like  an  auger.  The  boy  re- 
turned the  look,  wondering  whether  he  had 
found  a  friend,  a  father,  or  a  foe.  His  mother 
had  conducted  all  the  correspondence.  This 
was  his  first  introduction  to  the  celebrated 
Principal  of  Phillips  Academy. 

"  Mr.  Shelby,  you  may  wait  in  the  hall,  sir, 
while  I  talk  with  Mr.  Strong,"  said  the  eminent 
instructor.  Shelby  started  as  if  a  cannon-ball 
had  struck  him,  and  vanished  after  an  incau- 
tious wink  at  the  waiting  boy. 


ANDOVER     AHOY !  23 

When  the  two  were  left  alone  the  dreadful 
voice  spoke  again. 

"  Now,  sir,  are  you  lame  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Then  sit  down."  This,  the  boy  thought, 
was  said  more  tenderly. 

"  How  long  ?  " 

"Ever  since  I  could  remember,  sir." 

"  Does  it  hurt  you  to  walk  ?  " 

"A  little,  sir;  not  much.  I'll  be  stronger 
soon." 

"How  poor  are  you?  You  look  poor!" 
This  seemed  brutal  to  the  lad.  As  the  Doctor 
said  this,  he  scanned  John's  neat  and  well-worn 
clothes  and  his  hat  of  ancient  cut. 

"  I  have  just  twenty-two  dollars  left.  I 
started  with  twenty-five.  Mother  said  that  I 
would  have  a  chance  to  earn  some.  Mother 
has  no  money  left  now  ;  she's  too  poor." 

"  Humph  !  "  ejaculated  the  merciless  inspec- 
tor, wiping  his  glasses  to  gain  a  fresh  start. 
"  What  did  you  come  here  for  ?  Can  you 
study  ?  " 

"  I  do  my  best ;  I  was  second  in  my  class  in 


24  ANUOVER     AHOY  ! 

Conacoot.     I  graduated  this  year.     But  it  didn't 
take  me  far  enough  to  enter  college." 

"  Humph  !  "  came  the  same  uncompromising 
reply.  "  Can  you  take  care  of  a  garden  ?  Are 
you  strong  enough  to  work  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  I'll  do  anything  to  earn  my 
way  through.  I  must  get  to  college.  My 
father  went;  he  worked." 

The  stern  educator  of  a  thousand  youths 
looked  the  plucky  boy  again  in  the  face.  He 
noticed  the  frank  blue  eyes,  the  open,  broad 
brow,  the  willing  smile.  He  took  the  lad  in  at 
a  glance.  He  rarely  made  a  mistake  in  his 
estimates  of  character.  He  was  proud  of  his 
wonderful  perceptive  faculty.  On  the  other 
hand  he  never  relaxed.  This  was  the  secret  of 
his  disciplinary  power  —  never  to  unbend,  no 
matter  how  warmly  his  heart  might  beat. 
Could  a  boy  stand  before  him  without  wincing, 
he  was  sure  of  the  Principal's  secret  favor  at 
least. 

"There!  There!  You  won't  be  in  mischief, 
I'll  warrant.  We'll  see  what  can  be  done. 
Your  room,"  he  consulted  his  papers,  "  is  2,  2 


ANDOVER     AHOY !  2$ 

Latin  Commons.  You  are  to  board  at  the 
Milktoast  Club.  There,  sir,  you  will  report 
to-morrow  morning  at  prayers  and  take  your 
place  in  the  Senior  class.  Here,  Shelby  ! " 
Shelby  suddenly  bobbed  into  the  room  like 
Punch  in  the  show.  He  readjusted  his  binocu- 
lars and  looked  around  to  see  how  the  wind  lay. 

"  Shelby,  take  Mr.  Strong  to  No.  2,  Room  2, 
in  your  Commons  ;  get  the  janitor  and  the  key 
and  show  him  to  the  Milktoast  Club.  And, 
hark  ye,  attend  to  your  lessons  this  year,  or  I'll 
have  to  know  the  reason  why,  sir." 

"  Is  it  far?  "  asked  the  neophyte  of  his  con- 
ductor, when  they  both  breathed  more  freely 
on  the  sidewalk  again. 

"No,  indeed  ;  see  those  play  houses  all  in  a 
row  ?  Six  of  'em.  Yours  is  the  second  ;  your 
room  is  on  the  ground  floor,  window  facing  this 
way  ;  my  room  is  in  the  next  house.  It's  nice 
enough  now  —  wait  till  winter  comes."  This 
was  said  in  an  ominous  tone. 

They  soon  stopped  in  front  of  what  seemed 
to  John  the  dreariest  row  of  wooden  houses  in 
North  America.  "Wait  here,"  said  Shelby,  " I'll 


26  ANDOVER     AHOY ! 

send  the  janitor  to  you,  and  when  I  see  Pete  I'll 
tell  him  where  to  bring  your  trunk.     Second- 
hand furniture  can  be  bought  next  house  but 
one.     I'll  come  for  you  at  supper  time." 
John  Strong  was  left  alone. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    DORMITORIES. 

THEY  stood  there,  six  of  them  in  a  row. 
They  looked  as  if  they  had  been  struck 
off  from  the  same  stern  die.  They  looked  like 
weather-beaten,  brown  sentinels,  stolid  and  for- 
bidding, on  guard  to  warn  the  unwary  away. 
They  appeared  to  John  Strong  as  he  edged 
off  to  take  a  good  look  at  them,  like  dragons 
with  eyes  and  mouths  ready  to  devour  the  un- 
wary student  who  didn't  know  enough  to  keep 
away  from  them.  Dingy  blankets  hung  out  of 
the  windows.  Wood  and  coal,  book-boxes  and 
blown,  brown  paper  formed  the  foreground  of 
the  scene.  Grumblings  and  noises  reverberated 
from  within  these  six  grim  shells.  He  counted 
them  again.  Yes,  there  were  six.  And  through 
the  trees  on  the  other  side  of  the  play-ground  he 
counted  five  more  like  monsters.  He  won- 
27 


28  THE     DORMITORIES. 

dered  how  many  more  there  were.  A  prison 
in  Siberia  might  be  worse,  he  thought,  but, 
with  the  intensity  and  inexperience  of  youth, 
rather  doubted  it. 

Latin  Commons,  No.  2,  Room  2  !  His  moth- 
er's heart  would  have  ached  had  she  seen  him 
looking  at  the  barracks,  which  the  Academy 
Trustees  furnished  to  their  boys  with  the  fur- 
ther inducement  of  only  three  dollars  a  term 
room  rent.  Don't  let  us  be  too  hard  on  the 
Phillips  authorities.  These  six  brown  boxes 
are  there  to  help  educate  poor  boys.  They 
have  turned  out  many  a  manly  fellow,  and  by 
their  very  hardship  fitted  him  to  make  his  way 
in  the  seething  world.  We  only  pity  the  "  pious 
founders'  "  taste  in  the  selection  of  an  architect. 

Every  boy  who  has  been  away  to  school  or 
college  for  the  first  time,  knows  that  the  set- 
tling interval  is  the  dreariest.  It  taxes  all  the 
Spartan  in  a  boy  not  to  give  way  to  discourage- 
ment when  the  lonely  feeling  overtakes  him  at 
such  a  critical  time.  Our  hero  was  going 
through  just  such  a  stage.  All  the  manhood 
he  had  was  now  required.  He  didn't  know  a 


THE     DORMITORIES.  2Q 

soul  in  Andover  except  the  burly  Principal  and 
the  boy  called  "Doc.  Goggles."  Here  he  was, 
stranded  and  in  all  respects  helpless,  on  the 
door-step  of  the  saddest-looking  wooden  house 
he  had  ever  seen.  He  looked  into  the  window 
of  his  future  home.  He  saw  bare  floors,  two  bare 
chairs,  a  bare  table,  two  open  doors  and  a  stove- 
pipe hole.  That  was  all.  As  he  was  peering 
through  the  window  and  feeling  more  desperate 
than  ever  over  the  prospect  of  the  homelessness 
and  the  sickly  green  wall  paper,  a  hand  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Are  you  the  new  Senior  ?  " 

The  boy  turned  and  saw  a  fat,  jovial  man, 
done  up  in  overalls  and  jingling  a  big  bunch  of 
keys  in  his  hand. 

"  I'm  Mr.  Locks,  your  janitor.  I  guess  you'd 
like  to  get  into  your  room."  Then,  after  a  pause, 
as  he  proceeded  to  open  the  refractory  door : 
"  We  generally  give  these  floor-rooms  to  Preps, 
and  the  Seniors  go  up  to  the  top,  but  I  was  told 
you'd  want  a  bottom  room.  I  guess  you'll  be 
better  suited  here  ;  the  steps  are  pretty  rough 
for  any  one  to  climb." 


3O  THE     DORMITORIES. 

Indeed  they  looked  it,  winding,  steep,  chipped, 
and  worn  with  the  countless  feet  of  nearly  eighty 
years. 

A  warm,  overpowering,  stuffy  smell  greeted 
John  as  he  briskly  followed  the  janitor  and  put 
his  bag  on  the  floor  with  a  sigh  of  faint  relief. 
The  room  looked  even  more  forbidding  when 


LATIN    COMMONS — NO.    2,    ROOM    2. 

he  was  in  it  than  it  did  from  the  outside.  There 
were  two  windows,  one  on  the  side  and  one  in 
front,  and  these  lifted  with  difficulty  and  then 
staid  up  on  sticks.  The  green  wall  paper  had 
faded  to  a  homesick  color  and  was  liberally 
daubed  with  red  and  black  ink.  The  door  was 
hacked  and  mangled.  It  gaped  at  the  bottom 


THE     DORMITORIES.  $1 

as  much  as  the  windows  did  at  the  top.  The 
floor  rose  and  fell  as  if  an  earthquake  had 
passed  through  the  land.  One  could  almost 
peer  through  the  chinks  into  the  murky  dark- 
ness below.  There  were  a  couple  of  chairs  that 
had  evidently  been  reconstructed  lately  by  the 
janitor  himself,  for  he  looked  at  them  with 
peculiar  pride.  The  table  in  the  corner  of  the 
room  was  the  most  respectable  bit  of  furniture, 
and  that  was  bravely  supported  by  two  laths, 
that  were  securely  nailed  upon  the  stumps  of  its 
pathetic  front  legs.  It  reminded  John  Strong 
of  a  veteran  of  the  war,  so  patched  up  and  yet 
so  able. 

"  Here's  your  bedroom.  You  can  put  your 
trunk  and  things  in  the  other  one."  This  is  the 
warmest  in  winter.  Did  you  bring  any  bed- 
clothes? We  don't  furnish  bedding." 

"  I've  got  some  sheets  and  blankets  in  my 
trunk,  if  it  only  gets  here  in  time,"  answered 
John,  as  he  approached  a  chair  with  caution. 

"Well,  I  guess  I'll  have  to  put  you  up  a  mat- 
tress and  a  pillow ;  you  can  pay  for  it  when  you 
feel  like  it." 


32  THE     DORMITORIES. 

"  If  you  please  I'll  pay  for  it  now.  How  much 
will  it  be?" 

John  Strong  had  made  up  his  mind  about  one 
thing  —  he  would  starve  first,  but  he  would  not 
fall  in  debt.  They  were  poor  at  home ;  how 
bitterly  poor  no  one  else  knew,  and  they  kept 
it  to  themselves.  However,  they  never  owed 
any  man  a  penny.  It  was  part  of  their  religion 
to  keep  themselves  free,  though  they  ate  mush 
and  molasses  to  do  it  month  after  month. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  new  Senior  had 
bargained  for  a  second-hand  mattress  and  pil- 
low, an  old  student's  lamp,  a  gallon  of  kerosene 
oil,  a  self-feeding  stove,  and  a  broom,  for  the 
modest  sum  of  ten  dollars,  cash  down.  It  was 
about  five  o'clock  and  he  set  to  work  putting 
things  to  rights.  Pete  brought  his  trunk  very 
promptly,  undoubtedly  stimulated  by  a  slight 
feeling  of  pity  for  the  lame  boy.  The  janitor, 
Mr.  Locks,  soon  came  puffing  and  glowing  with 
his  conveniences  in  hand,  all  but  the  stove. 
Flocks  of  boys  peered  into  the  windows  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  lame  Senior  who  was  to  room 
in  Commons.  They  wondered  if  he  would  be 


THE     DORMITORIES.  33 

surly  and  cross.  Somehow,  impatience  of  tem- 
per is  associated  with  physical  deformity  in 
boys'  minds.  They  argued  whether  he  would 
be  a  good  one  to  eat  at  the  first  table  of  the 
Milktoast  Club. 

The  bed  was  made  upon  the  hardest  of  slats, 
but  John  didn't  mind  an  uneasy  bed.  The  rooms 
were  swept.  The  few  pictures  and  prints  his 
mother  had  slipped  in  his  trunk  were  tacked 
upon  the  walls.  The  pitcher  was  filled  with 
water  at  the  famous  old  pump  near  by  which 
even  the  theologues  patronized.  The  cellar 
was  inspected,  and  Mr.  Locks  showed  him 
where  his  pile  of  wood  and  coal  was  to  go. 
The  sloping  colonial  roof  of  the  Milktoast 
Club  was  pointed  out  to  him  by  an  enterprising 
Junior  Middler  in  the  same  building.  A  new 
Junior  (known  in  schoolboy  parlance  as  a 
"Prep.")  in  the  room  opposite  had  hesitatingly 
asked  the  new  Senior's  advice  about  a  washer- 
woman ;  and  now,  seated  gingerly  on  a  chair 
by  the  open  window,  John  was  looking  at  the 
parched  meadows  through  the  opaque  drizzle. 
His  mind  wandered  in  quick  confusion.  He 


34  THE    DORMITORIES. 

thought  of  home  and  Cicero,  of  tuition  bills  and 
chapel  bells,  and  wondered  what  the  morrow, 
the  tenth  of  September,  the  opening  day  of 
the  fall  term,  would  bring  forth.  The  rain,  to 
complete  the  desolate  scene,  now  came  down 
heavily,  as  it  always  does  at  the  famous  Phillips- 
Exeter  ball-games,  Commencement  Day,  or  the 
opening  week  of  the  fall  term.  Just  then  a 
vigorous  knock  at  the  door  was  heard. 

Awaking  from  his  revery,  John  Strong  turned 
his  head.  It  was  just  ten  minutes  of  six,  and 
sure  enough,  in  bounced  Doc.  Shelby,  his  queer, 
simple  face  beaming  with  good  nature. 

"  Halloo  !  All  settled  ?  Are  you  ready  for 
hash  ?  We'll  have  to  start  pretty  soon  ;  you'll 
find  you  have  got  to  be  there  when  the  doors 
are  opened  or  you  lose  your  chance." 

Our  new  Senior  was  soon  walking  as  fast  as 
he  could  under  his  friend's  umbrella.  They 
only  had  about  five  hundred  yards  to  go  before 
they  came  to  the  site  of  the  famous  Milktoast 
Club,  where  hundreds  have  caught  their  first 
symptoms  of  the  dyspepsia  that  became  chronic 
in  college  boarding-houses,  was  hardened  by 


THE     DORMITORIES.  35 

post-graduate  landladies,  that  was  knocked  out 
of  them  by  a  Western  ranch,  or  soothed  out  of 
them  by  a  sensible  wife,  or  that  lasted  them  till 
the  memory  of  boyish  days  and  hardships  seemed 
but  a  dim  outline  of  a  half-forgotten  youth. 

"  I'll  take  you  around  and  introduce  you  to 
our  landlady,  Mrs.  Grooge,"  continued  Doc.  in 
his  effervescent  way ;  "  she  has  been  at  it  twenty- 
five  years  and  is  now  considered  as  good  as  any 
one  of  the  faculty.  If  you  get  on  the  right  side 
of  her,  you're  sure  of  plenty  of  grub." 

They  pushed  their  way  through  groups  of 
boys  standing  massed  under  umbrellas  and  en- 
cased in  water  proofs  about  the  locked  front 
door.  Others  were  roosting  like  black  turkey- 
buzzards  on  the  fence,  waiting  for  the  rush  to 
begin.  When  the  two  emerged  from  the  drip, 
drip !  overhead,  through  the  back  door  into  the 
warm  kitchen,  John  Strong  noticed  a  boiler  full 
of  potatoes  standing  on  the  table,  and  mountains 
of  milk  toast  warming  on  the  stove. 

"  Here  you,  Kitty  !  "  a  high  voice  was  heard 
above  the  clatter  from  the  dining-room  within, 
"  give  the  boys  plenty  of  milk  to-night ;  it's 


36  THE     DORMITORIES. 

their  first  meal,  and  they've  got  to  write  home 
that  they  are  not  starved." 

Doc.  pushed  through  to  the  dining-room, 
where  a  tall,  lean  woman,  with  deep  wrinkles 
in  her  forehead,  with  her  hair  severely  smoothed 
down  over  her  ears,  was  putting  the  finishing 
touches  on  the  four  tables. 

"Hem!  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Shelby?  Back 
again  !  You  march  right  out  of  here  and  wait 
outside  till  the  doors  are  opened  !"  jerked  out 
this  peremptory  and  bristling  landlady. 

"  Excuse  me,  I  have  brought  you  a  new 
boarder.  Mr.  Strong,  Mrs.  Grooge ;  Mrs. 
Grooge,  Mr.  Strong.  He's  a  new  Senior.  Per- 
haps he  can  stay  in  this  time  and  you  can  show 
him  his  seat,"  answered  Doc.  apologetically. 

"Oh!  that's  another  thing.  O,  yes  !  I  heard 
about  you  from  Mr.  Locks.  Let  me  see.  The 
Senior  tables  —  Mr.  Lambkin  sits  there  — 
hurry  up,  Kitty,  with  that  milk  toast ;  put 
three  dishes  full  on  the  table,  with  four  dishes 
of  the  boiled  potatoes  —  Landor  sits  here — put 
four  milk  toasts  at  the  Seniors'  table,  they  eats 
most  —  Dalstan  there  —  I'll  put  you  nearest 


THE     DORMITORIES.  37 

the  door,  opposite  Lambkin.  You  set  right 
down  and  hang  your  hat  in  the  hall  —  You  can 
pay  me  the  ten  dollars  down  to-morrow." 

"  Here  it  is,  ma'am,  I'll  pay  before  I  eat," 
quickly  answered  John. 

"Well,  you  are  a  good  beginner;  keep  it  up 
and  you'll  come  out  all  right.  You'll  find  the 
receipt  under  your  plate  at  breakfast.  You'd 
better  be  prompt  ;  6.30  sharp,  or  you  won't  get 
much.  They  are  like  bears  when  they  eat." 

It  was  only  a  minute  more  before  the  tables 
were  set  and  the  door  was  opened.  There 
was  so  much  stone  china  crockery  and  so  little 
food  !  Then  the  rush  began. 

"  Hey,  you  fellows,  milk  toast  to-night,  hur- 
rah !  "  yelled  the  foremost  boys. 

In  they  trooped,  while  John  Strong  sat  and 
silently  watched  them. 

During  this  rush  and  scrimmage,  Kitty  and 
Mrs.  Grooge  took  good  care  to  keep  out  of 
harm's  way.  One  could  easily  tell  a  new-comer 
by  the  hesitation  he  showed  at  first.  The 
older  hands  grabbed  their  plates  and  made  a 
dead  set  for  the  toast  dish  and  potatoes. 


38  THE     DORMITORIES. 

Others  caught  up  the  milk  pitcher.  It  looked 
as  if  a  battle  would  be  fought,  so  lawless  these 
young  gentlemen  were. 

"  Halloo,  is  that  you,  Doc.  ? "  some  one 
shrieked ;  "  catch  that !  "  A  potato  went  whiz- 
zing through  the  air  losing  its  jacket  in  its 
flight. 

The  Seniors  were  hardly  more  decorous, 
though  one  had  had  the  grace  to  help  John, 
who  waited  in  his  seat,  the  only  one  at  the 
table,  who  did  so,  for  his  turn  to  come.  It  is 
no  exaggeration  to  say  that  butter  flew  through 
the  air,  and  one  melting  patch  was  seen  to 
trickle  down  a  new  Prep.'s  shirt  collar.  Bread 
was  a  staple  article  of  attack,  as  well  as  \.\\e  piece 
de  resistance. 

"  You'll  get  used  to  it,"  said  Lambkin,  bend- 
ing over  to  Strong.  "  Wait  till  flap-jack  morn- 
ing. This  is  nothing  compared  to  the  fun 
then." 

At  that  moment,  the  majestic  figure  of  Mrs. 
Grooge  appeared  in  the.  doorway.  There  was 
a  hush.  The  boys  all  looked  that  way. 

"  Good-ev'n,  boys,"  she  said  :  "  hope  you  are 


THE     DORMITORIES.  41 

all  getting  enough  to  eat  this  term.  I  do  my 
best,  though  you  did  begin  on  milk  toast 
to-night." 

The  boys  looked  impulsively  at  the  Senior 
table  as  if  the  first  response  should  come  from 
there.  He  who  was  known  as  Father  Lambkin 
arose  with  gravity. 

"  Fill  your  glasses,  my  children,  and  drink  to 
Mrs.  Grooge  "  — 

"  And  Kitty,"  broke  in  a  treble  voice. 

"  All  right ;  Kitty  too,"  went  on  the  impur- 
turbable  leader.  "Who  are  Mrs.  Grooge  and 
Kitty  ?  "  continued  the  spokesman,  bowing 
with  playful  sarcasm  at  the  last  word  to  the 
Middler  of  the  treble  voice.  "Now  answer!" 

Then  came  the  wonderful  reply  that  always 
stirs  the  heart  of  the  lad  who  hears  it  for  the 
first  time.  They  all  yelled  in  unison  : 

"  First  in  peace,  first  in  war,  first  in  the  hearts 
of  the  Milktoast  Club!"  Stamp,  stampity 
stamp,  stampity  stamp,  stamp,  stamp  !  rattled 
their  feet  on  the  floor  with  mighty  clang  and 
perfect  precision  of  time. 

The  boys  roared  and  drank. 


42  THE     DORMITORIES. 

John  Strong  wondered  if  any  woman's  pres- 
ence could  calm  this  restless,  undisciplined 
crew.  He  thought  of  his  mother's  simple  and 
orderly  table.  Why  should  a  boy  not  behave 
like  a  gentleman  even  if  away  from  home  ? 
Then  the  backward  stampede  began.  A  final 
volley  of  potato  peelings  and  bread  crumbs  set 
in,  and  John  was  drawn  into  the  retrogressive 
movement.  A  hand  caught  him  by  the  arm. 
The  benevolent  and  interesting  face  of  Lamb- 
kin approached  him. 

"  It's  pretty  rough,  I  know,"  he  said,  when 
they  were  well  outside  ;  "  a  boy  takes  it  hard 
when  he  first  comes  from  a  decent  home  like 
mine.  This  is  my  fourth  year.  We  are  used 
to  it.  I'll  take  you  to  chapel  to-morrow  if  you 
like  and  start  you  in.  We  are  not  like  the 
swell  ones,  here  in  Commons,  but  we  hold  our 
own." 

They  parted  at  John  Strong's  door. 

"  You  must  come  in  and  see  me  soon,"  John 
slowly  said. 

"  That  I  will.     Good-night !  " 

And  the  new  Senior  went  to  his  bare  room, 


THE    DORMITORIES.  43 

his  few  books,  his  mother's  picture  and  his  hard 
bed.  He  had  just  fallen  asleep  when  he  was 
aroused  by  muffled  sounds  right  under  his  open 
bedroom  window. 

"  Wonder  how  the  fellow  will  like  it  ?  "  said 
a  voice  that  sounded  like  that  of  Selfrich. 

Splash  !  came  a  volume  of  water  on  the  bed. 
John  sat  up,  dripping.  He  heard  laughing  and 
running,  and  then  fully  realized  that  he  was  a 
member  of  Phillips  Academy, 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE    STRUGGLE    FOR    EXISTENCE. 

WHAT  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 
"  I  heard  that  you  wanted  a  boy  to  do 
some  work." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  work  for  ? " 
"  For  an  education,  sir,"  answered  a  frank 
voice  promptly. 

It  was  our  new  Senior  who  had  started  out  as 
soon  as  he  could  to  find  work.  He  was  one  of 
the  sturdy  class  who  prefer  to  make  their  own 
way,  and  who  think  it  is  a  poor  way  if  they  are 
pushed.  He  had  naturally  gone  first  to  one  of 
the  many  Professors  who  were  in  the  habit  of 
employing  a  boy.  John  Strong  had  a  certain 
nobility  of  countenance  which  made  him  an 
aristocrat  to  look  upon,  no  matter  how  poorly  he 
might  be  dressed.  Add  to  this  the  inevitable 
lines  that  intelligent  suffering  brings,  and  he 

44 


THE    STRUGGLE     FOR     EXISTENCE.  45 

looked,  unfortunately  enough  for  his  purpose,  as 
if  it  would  not  be  quite  the  thing  to  offer  him 
manual  employment. 

The  reverend  man  he  now  called  upon  hap- 
pened at  that  time  to  fill  the  Hebrew  chair  in 
the  Theological  Seminary,  and  he  was,  as  it 
also  happened,  nearsighted  and  unpractical. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said ;  "  I  should  like  to  help 
you,  but  we  have  just  engaged  our  furnace  boy. 
•  Let  me  see  —  "  He  stood  in  the  doorway  ;  his 
lean,  shaven  face  posed  in  thought.  "Ah,  I 
have  it.  Can  you  copy  Hebrew  texts  ?  I  am 
publishing  a  revised  edition  of  Gesenius." 

"No,  sir,"  sorrowfully  answered  John  Strong. 
He  was  not  up  to  Andover  requirements;  "I 
am  afraid  not." 

"  Then  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  help  you. 
I  am  sorry.  Come  and  see  me  again.  Good 
afternoon." 

John  Strong  watched  the  learned  figure  until 
the  door  shut.  He  was  by  no  means  discour- 
aged. He  made  up  his  mind  to  try  the  next 
place. 

He  now  walked  boldly  up  to  the  front  door  of 


46  THE     STRUGGLE     FOR    EXISTENCE. 

the  adjoining  house,  where  another  theological 
Professor  lived,  who  was  noted,  not  only  in  his 
scholastic  department  as  a  successful  teacher, 
but  also  because  he  had  a  fast  horse  and  a 
good  cow. 

This  was  the  Professor  of  Depravity.  It 
is  a  well-known  fact  that  all  of  the  houses  on 
the  hill  are  either  occupied  by  Professors  or  are 
used  as  boarding-houses  ;  and  there  are  not  half- 
enough  to  go  around.  John  Strong  thought  as 
he  approached  his  second  venture,  that  he  could 
well  offer  to  take  care  of  the  horse  and  cow. 
He  was  fond  of  animals,  and  of  course  could 
milk  ;  so  he  rang  the  bell. 

"  Is  the 'Professor  in  ?  " 

"No,"  answered  the  maid,  "but  she  is;  will 
you  walk  in?" 

Now,  under  no  circumstances  is  it  easy  for 
a  high-spirited  young  man  to  ask  a  woman  for 
work,  and  John  Strong  wished  himself  miles 
away.  But  before  he  could  excuse  himself,  the, 
girl  had  ushered  him  into  the  bookish  parlor, 
filled  with  portraits  of  eminent  theologians  from 
Melanchthon  and  Luther  down  to  present  date ; 


THE    STRUGGLE    FOR    EXISTENCE.  49 

and  he  had  to  sit  and  wonder  with  all  his  mind 
how  on  earth  to  open  the  subject  in  the  best 
way.  While  he  was  considering  the  ticklish 
problem  from  its  many  standpoints,  the  Pro- 
fessor's wife  entered. 

"  Oh  !  Dr.  Strong,  where  are  you  ? "  she  cried 
shrilly.  She  had  an  air  as  if  some  eminent 
man  were  playing  hide-and-go-seek,  and  might 
bob  up  from  behind  a  lounge,  for  instance. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  mistaken,  madam," 
mildly  suggested  the  young  man.  "  I  am  Mr. 
Strong,  a  member  of  the  Academy." 

"  Why,  I  thought  it  was  President  Strong  of 
Buncome  College,  who  is  expected  here.  I  am 
so  disappointed.  Mr.  Strong,  what  can  I  do 
for  you  ? " 

She  laid  a  peculiar  stress  on  Mister.  There 
are  those  to  whom  the  continual  use  of  some  title 
or  other  —  as  Doctor,  Professor,  President  —  is 
as  necessary  as  water  to  a  Sandwich  Islander. 
Such  a  one  was  the  animated,  black-haired 
woman  opposite  the  new  Senior. 

"  I  called  to  ask  about  work.  I  heard  that 
you  wanted  a  boy  to  do  chores.  If  so  will  you 


5O  THE    STRUGGLE    FOR    EXISTENCE. 

take  me  ?  I  want  work."  The  case  was  stated 
in  a  brief,  manful  way. 

"  O,  dear  me !  You  are  the  fifteenth  boy,  I 
am  sure,  that  has  applied  this  last  week  since 
the  school  opened.  We  always  take  one  from 
the  Academy.  The  Professor  says  that  is  giv- 
ing a  tenth  to  the  Lord." 

Though  he  had  stated  the  case  plainly,  it  now 
took  on  a  doubtful  hue  to  the  respectful  lad. 

"Well,  perhaps  I  might  suit,  Madam,"  he 
cheerfully  replied.  "  I  can  run  a  furnace  and 
take  care  of  the  cattle.  I  can  milk." 

The  young  mistress  of  the  house  seemed 
quite  impressed  by  this  unusual  catalogue  of 
accomplishments.  To  do  her  credit,  we  may 
say  that  most  of  the  applicants  wanted  as  little 
work  to  do  as  possible,  in  order  to  earn  their 
dollar  and  a  half  a  week  honorably.  Those  she 
had  hitherto  employed  had  seldom  given  an 
overdose  of  satisfaction.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  she  was  on  the  point  of  engaging  the  student 
one  week  on  trial  at  half-pay  when  she  happened 
to  notice  the  heavy  stick  and  the  limpness  of  his 
lame  side. 


THE    STRUGGLE     FOR    EXISTENCE.  51 

"Can  you  "  — she  cautiously  proceeded,  "can 
you  run  ? " 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  that  is  almost  the  only  thing 
about  a  farm  that  I  can't  do."  John  Strong 
began  to  look  sad. 

"Well,"  went  on  Mrs.  Professor,  with  re- 
newed ease,  as  if  she  had  gotten  on  her  accus- 
tomed track,  "  I  am  truly  sorry,  Mr.  Strong. 
In  that  case  you  won't  suit.  We  have  a  very 
high-strung  and  tender  cow,  which  is  given  to 
running  away.  She  lifts  the  bars  with  her  horns 
and  then  runs  down  the  street.  I  don't  see  how 
you  can  catch  her  if  you  can't  run  too.  She's 
a  very  nervous  cow." 

John  Strong  feebly  assented  and  rose.  "  I 
am  sorry,"  he  said,  "and  will  not  take  up  your 
time  any  more.  Good  afternoon." 

"  You  might  try  the  next  house,"  suggested 
the  lady  kindly. 

She  was  the   new  wife  of  a  new  Professor, 

V* 

not  njuch  used  to  Andover,  yet ;  she  had 
come  with  some  beautiful  theories  about  how 
to  treat  Academy  boys  ;  when  she  had  time 
she  meant  to  invite  them  all  to  supper.  "  That 


52  THE     STRUGGLE     FOR     EXISTENCE. 

Professor  wants  a  boy.  I  am  sorry  you  can't 
run.  Good  afternoon." 

The  wind  rose  in  a  gust  at  this  minute  and 
the  door  happened  to  slam  in  the  disappointed 
boy's  face. 

Momentary  discouragement  is  nothing  "to  be 
ashamed  of,  when  it  does  not  overwhelm  the 
victim  into  final  inactivity.  For  the  most  part, 
these  mental  ups  and  downs  are  as  much  due 
to  the  temperament  as  to  circumstances,  and 
they  need  a  mild  antidote  to  drive  them  away. 
John  Strong  thought  as  much,  and  now  cut 
directly  across  the  green  common,  past  the 
granite  library,  towards  the  brick  buildings  of 
the  Theological  Seminary.  He  had  a  cousin 
in  the  Seminary,  a  rich  young  fellow,  who  had 
astonished  everybody  by  first  turning  theologue, 
and  secondly  by  entering  such  a  quiet  school 
as  that  at  Andover.  Roger  Mansfield  was  an 
interesting  character.  His  father  was  a  wealthy 
stock  broker  in  New  York,  and  the  son  had 
developed  unexpected  religious  ideas  of  his  own 
at  Harvard,  and  now  was  in  his  second  theologi- 
cal year. 


• 


IAlf'7- 

•••to  *Y    •  1  • 


i 

. 
• 


THE    STRUGGLE     FOR    EXISTENCE.  55 

As  John  walked  down  the  famous  Elm-tree 
Avenue  he  met  a  couple  of  girls  who  were  com- 
ing briskly  along  and  who  almost  brushed 
against  him.  The  one  nearest  to  him  attracted 
his  attention  ;  he  could  hardly  tell  why.  Per- 
haps it  was  her  eyes  which  seemed  to  envelop 
him  as  she  gave  him  a  swift  glance.  They  did 
not  look  at  him.  They  rather  absorbed  him. 

"  What  a  fine  head  he  has  !  "  whispered  this 
young  lady  to  her  companion,  when  John  had 
fairly  passed. 

"Why,  you  stupid,  Elva,"  answered  her  com- 
panion with  a  sniff;  "didn't  you  see  that  he 
was  lame  ? " 

"What  does  that  matter  when  one  has  so 
true  a  look  ? "  the  one  called  Elva  gravely 
answered.  Then  they  talked  of  other  things. 

John  would  not  have  dismissed  that  pair  of 
gray-blue  eyes  so  soon  had  he  heard  the  girl's 
Hoble  answer.  As  it  was,  his  healthy  imagina- 
tion had  quickly  outrun  his  feet,  and  was  al- 
ready at  his  cousin's  room.  A  few  minutes 
more,  a  climb  of  a  flight  of  stairs,  and  he  was 
about  to  knock  at  a  battered  door  that  bore 


56  THE     STRUGGLE    FOR    EXISTENCE. 

upon  its  ancient  face  a  fashionable  bit  of  paste- 
board, engraved  by  Tiffany,  bearing  the  legend  : 

Mr.  Roger  Mansfield. 

when  the  following  theological  discourse  ar- 
rested his  attention,  and  before  he  knew  it,  he 
was  standing  still,  an  unconscious  eavesdropper. 

"  Say  your  prayers,  sir  !  Head  down  ! 
Down  !  I  say." 

After  a  short  interval,  the  word  came,  sharp 
and  stern  :  "  Amen."  This  was  followed  by  a 
sound  that  might  have  been  made  by  the  clap- 
ping of  two  hands  once  together. 

John  had  instinctively,  for  he  was  a  devout 
lad,  closed  his  eyes  and  bent  his  head. 

Then  came  the  surprisingly  contradictory 
order  that  electrified  him  : 

"  Now  dance,  sir!  Up!  Up  again!  That's 
right.  Now  faster  —  faster  !  "  Then  came  a 
mad  clattering  around  the  room.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  it  that  some  rousing  performance 
was  going  on  in  these  sacred  apartments. 

Was  this  the  way  they  studied  theology  ? 

"  Hold  !  "     Then  followed  another  snap. 

Now  order  after  order  came  sharp  and  fast ; 


THE     STRUGGLE     FOR     EXISTENCE.  57 

these  were  capped  by  sounds  that  gave  John 
the  impression  that  they  had  been  obeyed  with 
tremendous  vim. 

"Repeat  the  catechism,  sir." 

"  Now  leap-frog,  sir." 

"  Be  a  Congregationalism" 

"Be  a  Presbyterian." 

"  Now  deny  the  Nicene  Creed."  This  order 
was  followed  by  a  flop. 

"  Now  plead  your  case  before  the  Supreme 
Court,  sir." 

"  Now  be  a  heretic  and  die  !  " 

John  thought  it  was  about  time  to  knock. 
As  he  did  so,  the  final  command  came  in  alarm- 
ing tones  :  "  Now  turn  the  rascals  out  !  " 

The  door  was  flung  open  and  a  large,  dark 
form  leaped  upon  him.  It  was  a  magnificent 
Newfoundland  dog,  nearly  three  feet  high.  It 
placed  its  paws  upon  the  student's  shoulders 
and  breathed  in  his  face.  This  was  the  worst 
reception  John  had  yet  encountered  in  An- 
dover.  The  brute  looked  as  if  he  would  say, 
"  How  dare  you  come  in  without  my  master's 
countersign  !  " 


$8  THE     STRUGGLE     FOR     EXISTENCE. 

"  Down,  Calvin,  down  !  "  rang  out  the  voice 
of  his  master  from  the  doorway.  At  this,  the 
trained  beast  dropped  on  his  four  paws  and 
came  to  his  owner's  feet  as  demurely  as  if  he 
had  been  lapping  milk. 

Roger  Mansfield,  the  gay  theologue,  and  his 
cousin,  John  Strong,  the  plain  Academy  senior, 
were  soon  acquainted.  More  than  that,  they 
began  to  like  each  other  immensely.  Whether 
it  was  because  opposites  are  easily  attracted  to 
each  other,  or  whether  each  recognized  in  the 
other  a  like  intrepid,  manly  quality  which  both 
possessed,  but  which  cropped  out  in  far  different 
ways,  who  can  say  ?  John  easily  yielded  to  the 
fascination  of  knowing  one  who  gladly  under- 
stood him,  while  the  older  man  felt  through  that 
subtle  power  which  is  sometimes  described  by 
the  name  of  magnetism,  that  here  was  one  who 
could  see  beyond  the  luxurious  exterior  and 
could  discern  the  sincerity  of  a  nature  that  had 
been  too  often  misunderstood. 

"And  is  this  your  first  and  last  year  here  ?  " 
continued  Mansfield ;  "  I  have  another  year  to 
stay,  and  begin  to  chafe  for  active  work." 


•. 


THE    STRUGGLE     FOR     EXISTENCE.  6l 

"  And  I  have  been  here  only  a  week,  and  I 
chafe  for  work  too." 

Then  John  Strong  told  his  cousin  his  whole 
story,  and  asked  what  he  thought  he  had  bet- 
ter do. 

"  Have  you  tried  the  '  Compo  '  shop  ? "  asked 
Roger.  "  I  wouldn't  recommend  it  very  highly. 
A  couple  of  theologues  work  there.  You  sew 
shoes  and  make  rubber  bags  and  do  stitching  of 
some  sort.  You  wouldn't  like  that,"  glancing 
at  the  high  brow  of  the  impecunious  student. 
"  However,"  he  continued,  thoughtfully  patting 
the  huge  dog  on  the  head,  "one  might  do  worse. 
I  almost  wish  I  had  to  do  it." 

"  If  I  can't  get  any  other  work,"  answered 
John,  "  I'll  have  to  try  that.  I  can  make  shoes. 
Mother  and  I  learned  to  do  it  home  one  winter. 
That  was  a  dreadful  year." 

The  lad  looked  so  unconscious  of  having  said 
anything  remarkable  that  his  host  sat  aston- 
ished. Mansfield  had  been  so  accustomed  to 
hear  his  poorest  classmates  make  light  of,  and 
excuse  and  gloss  over  and  hide  their  poverty, 
that  here  was  a  new  experience.  This  brave 


62  THE    STRUGGLE     FOR    EXISTENCE. 

heart  frankly  acknowledged  what  most  people 
consider  disgraceful. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  I'll  take  you  over  and  intro- 
duce you  to  Uncle  Jim.  He  isn't  so  bad  as  he's 
painted.  He'll  fix  you  somehow,"  said  Mans- 
field gaily. 

"  But  I've  been  there,  the  first  day  I  came. 
I  don't  think  he  will  do  much,"  answered  John. 

"  Oh  !  he  has  forgotten  all  about  you  by  this 
time.  If  he  knows  you're  my  cousin  "  ( rather 
proudly)  "he  will  do  something,  I  warrant." 

So  they  both  went  over;  John  in  his  shabby 
suit  of  brown  clothes,  and  Mansfield  in  rather  a 
heretical  tennis  suit  and  an  uncatechismal  red 
tie.  John  Calvin,  like  a  true,  Puritan  dog,  led 
the  way  in  giant  bounds.  Mansfield  walked 
boldly  through  the  outer  door  of  the  Principal's 
house  and  knocked  sturdily,  a  little  irreverently, 
Strong  thought,  at  the  study  door.  Calvin 
pawed  impatiently  on  the  sill. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  mighty  voice.  The  young 
men  opened  the  door.  Calvin  bounded  ahead, 
stopped  for  a  moment  to  reconnoiter,  and  with- 
out the  slightest  embarrassment,  pounced  into 


THE     STRUGGLE     FOR     EXISTENCE.  63 

the  awful  presence.  Uncle  Jim  was  writing 
busily.  He  had  not  raised  his  eyes. 

"  You  forget  yourself,  sir,"  growled  the  great 
man,  still  without  looking  up.  "Twenty  marks, 
sir  !  What  class  do  you  belong  to,  sir  ?  " 

Calvin  wagged  his  tail  pleasantly.  Without 
further  hesitation  he  walked  deliberately  around 
the  table  and  put  his  fore  paws  on  the  cleanest 
sheet  of  manuscript  he  could  find.  It  proved 
to  be  the  initial  draft  of  the  yearly  catalogue 
which  Uncle  Jim  had  just  laboriously  completed. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  "  The  Principal 
of  Phillips  Academy  raised  his  distinguished 
head.  The  lion  and  the  dog  regarded  each 
other,  their  faces  not  three  feet  apart. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

DIAMOND    CUT    DIAMOND. 

THE  two  young  men  had  watched  the  per- 
formance of  John  Calvin,  the  one  with  a 
species  of  hopeless  resignation,  the  other  with 
open  amusement.  It  is  a  dangerous  feat  to  put 
a  dog  either  through  college  or  a  Theological 
Seminary,  no  matter  how  handsome,  winsome 
or  well-trained  he  may  be.  If  he  does  not  undo 
you  in  the  presence  of  the  lords  of  the  institu- 
tion at  some  critical  moment,  he  will  betray  you 
in  a  thousand  other  ways,  much  to  your  humilia- 
tion. Roger  Mansfield  could  have  strangled 
his  pet  at  that  moment :  but  in  times  of  su- 
preme trial  the  soul  waits  the  final  verdict  with 
apparent  calmness.  Quietly,  hardly  above  a 
whisper,  Roger  said:  "Down!  charge,  sir!" 
For  the  first  time  in  Calvin's  natural  history, 
the  dog  deliberately  disobeyed.  He  opened  his 
64 


DIAMOND     CUT     DIAMOND.  65 

large  mouth,  gave  a  mighty  yawn,  and  with  a 
superbly  caressing  motion  pawed  closer  to 
Uncle  Jim,  devastating  in  his  attempts  a  few 
more  sheets  of  closely  written  paper. 

The  terrible  man,  made  more  ominous  by  an 
unexpected  calm,  turned  himself  around  slowly 
and  gave  the  young  men  a  piercing  glance.  He 
took  in  the  quiet  amusement  visible  in  John 
Strong's  face,  as  well  as  the  blush  of  embarrass- 
ment that  mantled  the  usually  nonchalant  theo- 
logue's  cheeks.  With  one  look  at  the  unabashed 
dog,  he  said  with  tremendous  sarcasm  : 

"  Pray,  Mr.  Mansfield,  let  your  representative 
remain.  He,  at  least,  knows  no  better  than  to 
interrupt  my  time  and  to  spoil  the  work  of  days." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  began  the  unfortunate 
introducer  of  his  cousin's  virtues. 

"You  need  not  be,  at  all,  sir,"  interrupted  the 
Principal,  in  his  grandest  tone.  "  The  Academy 
has  no  class  formed  as  yet,  for  dogs,  sir.  Our 
canine  department  is  as  yet  unendowed.  You 
have  simply  mistaken  your  grounds." 

"  But  I  came  to  introduce  my  cousin  here  and 
to  ask  you  "  — 


66  DIAMOND     CUT    DIAMOND. 

"That  is  also  needless,"  interrupted  Uncle 
Jim,  again  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  "He  is 
capable  of  introducing  himself.  And  if,"  he 
continued,  with  a  bow  to  poor  John  Calvin,  who 
by  this  time  had  come  down  to  his  proper  level 
and  was  looking  from  one  to  another  in  the  most 
bewildered  way,  "  you  have  no  other  ^business 
with  me,  sir,I  beg  you  to  leave  me  to  regret  that 
your  presence  and  that  of  your  friend,"  pointing 
to  the  now  thoroughly  subdued  dog,  "  have  not 
been  more  exhilarating.  — Good  afternoon,  sir." 

Oh,  thou  luckless  friend  of  my  youth  !  What 
disgrace  hast  thou  not  heaped  upon  my  loving 
head  in  the  name  of  canine  fidelity  !  So  thought 
Mansfield,  after  the  manner  of  thousands  of 
others,  who  with  the  best  intention  in  the  world 
have  attached  themselves  to  a  dog  and  a  profes- 
sion at  the  same  time.  With  his  tail  between 
his  legs,  John  Calvin,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  followed  his  master  out.  It  is  thus  that 
the  social  blunder  of  a  dog  can  effect  the  recog- 
nized order  of  precedence. 

John  Strong  would  have  fled  too,  had  not  the 
awful  voice  thundered : 


DIAMOND    CUT    DIAMOND.  6/ 

"  Stay,  sir,  I  wish  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

Uncle  Jim's  manner  softened  perceptibly 
when  the  door  was  closed,  and  the  pat !  pat  of 
the  paws  had  died  away  in  the  vestibule. 

"  You  needn't  have  brought  him  along  to  help 
you,"  began  the  rich,  deep  voice  with  another 
look  at  the  seated  boy. 

"  Oh !  I  didn't  wish  to  come  at  all,  only  he 
thought  you  had  forgotten  that  I  needed  work 
to  pay  my  way." 

"  He  did,  did  he  ? "  demanded  the  great  man. 
"  So  you  haven't  found  work  yet  ?  How  much 
money  have  you  left  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  cents,  sir.  The  last  went  for 
books.  I  don't  owe  anything.  I  thought  of 
applying  at  the  Compo  shops,"  answered  John 
Strong  with  a  little  brave  gulp.  It  isn't  so  easy 
after  all  to  be  poor  at  the  start. 

"Nobody  wants  you,  sir?"  This  sounded 
of  itself  cruel,  though  it  was  said  with  a  twinkle 
of  the  spectacle. 

"  Jt  appears  not,"  answered  the  boy.  "  What 
do  you  think  I  had  better  do,  sir  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  stay  here.     If  no- 


68  DIAMOND     CUT    DIAMOND. 

body  will  have  you,  I  suppose  I  must,  sir." 
This  was  said  with  great  brusqueness.  "  You 
may  consider  yourself  engaged  to  me  at  three 
dollars  a  week  to  do  work  of  any  kind,  and  you 
may  come  in  after  supper  and  begin  copying 
these  papers."  He  pointed  ruefully  at  the  paw- 
imprinted  manuscript.  "  Your  duties  begin  at 
once,  and  so  does  your  pay.  Here  are  ten  dol- 
lars in  advance." 

The  good  man  had  really  a  fatherly  look  as 
he  smiled  upon  the  lad  who  thus  saw  independ- 
ence before  him. 

John  Strong  had  hardly  strength  to  say 
"Thank  you."  He  looked  it,  and  Uncle  Jim, 
who  knew  how  to  read  boys'  faces  so  well,  un- 
derstood what  the  signs  meant.  But  right  here, 
that  infallible  reader  of  the  countenance  made 
his  first  grand  mistake. 

"  Living  in  the  Commons,  Strong,  you  have 
the  best  opportunity  of  coming  in  contact  with 
the  boys.  Now,  if  anything  goes  wrong,  I  am 
sure  you  will  report  to  me  promptly  the  nature 
of  the  trouble." 

John  Strong  had  risen,  and  he  stood  opposite 


DIAMOND     CUT     DIAMOND.  69 

his  Principal's  desk,  behind  which  the  speaker 
was  seated.  John  felt  dazed.  Was  this  part  of 
his  "  work  of  any  kind  "  —  to  report  the  boys  ? 
To  tell  tales  ?  He  hesitated.  Again  he  saw 
his  income  diminishing.  His  heart  grew  sick 
and  faint.  At  last,  with  dry  lips,  he  asked  the 
terrible  Principal  whose  eyes  were  looking 
steadfastly  at  his : 

"  Do  you  mean  me  to  be  your  spy,  sir  ?  "  He 
had  to  look  straight  into  those  eyes.  They  fas- 
cinated him.  He  could  not,  would  not  look 
away. 

"  That  is  an  ugly  name  for  a  student's  duty, 
sir,"  answered  the  Principal  impatiently.  "It 
is  for  the  sake  of  discipline  I  trust  you  to  do 
this,  sir." 

"Then,"  with  a  great  sigh,  said  John,  "I 
must  decline  your  offer  of  employment."  The 
poor  boy  laid  the  ten-dollar  bill  upon  the  table. 
"  I  cannot  do  what  would  be  dishonorable  for 
me,  though  others  may  think  it  right."  Then, 
after  a  pause,  he  exclaimed  :  "  I  am  so  sorry ;  I 
can't  help  it  though." 

Expression  after  expression  crossed  the  Prin- 


7O  DIAMOND     CUT     DIAMOND. 

cipal's  face  with  tornado-like  rapidity.  But  the 
boy  stood  firm.  The  great  man  had  his  struggle, 
too.  He  was  not  used  to  being  met  with  so 
manly  a  refusal  from  one  of  his  boys.  It  un- 
nerved him. 

"  You  may  go,  sir,"  he  said  cuttingly  to  the 
steadfast  lad. 

John  left  the  room.     When  he  had  reached 
the  end  of  the  hall  he  heard  the  summons :  — 
"Strong,  come  back.     I  wish  one  more  word 
with  you,  sir." 

The  boy  reluctantly  returned.  He  had  no 
wish  to  prolong  the  scene.  When  he  was  in  the 
room,  the  Principal,  in  whom  the  fatherly  nature 
had  won  the  victory  over  the  ingenious  discipli- 
narian, said  : 

"  Stay,  my  boy.  Perhaps  you  are  right.  My 
tutors  do  that.  They  are  paid  for  it.  You 
shall  do  different  work,  and  now  take  your 
money.  If  you  deserve  it  we  will  see  about  a 
scholarship.  Now  leave  me,  sir.  No  words  ! 
and  come  after  supper." 

Uncle  Jim  waved  him  off.  They  had  both 
had  a  new  experience,  and  there  was  born  in 


DIAMOND     CUT     DIAMOND.  ^1 

John's  heart  a  love  for  this  man,  battling  alone 
against  unbridled,  boyish  nature  that  was  in- 
stinctively antagonistic  to  him,  and  which  he 
conquered  in  his  own  way  with  far  fewer  mis- 
takes than  the  average  teacher.  This  feeling 
John  always  retained  long  after  Uncle  Jim  was 
peacefully  buried  in  the  old  Chapel  Cemetery 
on  Andover  Hill. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AN   AUTUMNAL    HAZE. 

JOHN  STRONG  had  been  at  school  now 
several  weeks.  He  had  been  introduced 
to  the  majority  of  his  fifty  or  sixty  classmates 
who  unanimously  voted  him  a  harmless  fellow. 
Of  course  it  was  out  of  the  question  that  he 
could  make  a  record  as  an  athlete.  They  soon 
recognized  him  as  a  "  dig,"  and  a  great  acquisi- 
tion perhaps  to  the  Philomathean  Debating  So- 
ciety. Beyond  that  they  did  not  think  of  him 
at  all. 

Strong's  greatest  discomfort  in  school  was 
that  he  had  to  sit  next  to  Selfrich.  The  class 
up  to  this  time  were  seated  alphabetically,  and 
John  wished  that  his  name  did  not  begin  with 
S.  One  evening,  as  he  was  revolving  an  impos- 
sible scheme  to  get  his  seat  in  class  changed, 
he  heard  a  timid  knock  at  his  door.  After  a 
72 


AN    AUTUMNAL    HAZE.  73 

little  preliminary  shuffling  the  young  "Prep." 
who  roomed  opposite  glided  in  and  with  a  stage 
whisper  announced  that  he  thought  some  fellows 
were  sacking  Doc.  Shelby's  room.  He  had 
heard  faint  gurgles  and  suppressed  laughter  as 
he  passed  by.  He  didn't  know  much  about  it, 
but  thought  that  he  would  tell  "  Mr.  Strong  " 
who  might  like  to  see  the  fun. 

John  immediately  hurried  over.  It  was  a 
cold  autumn  night.  The  wind  blew  viciously. 
Drops  of  stinging  rain  slapped  the  boy  in  the 
face.  When  he  had  come  to  Doc.'s  door  he 
knocked  vigorously.  The  hall  was  draughty 
and  cold.  It  was  the  sort  of  a  night  when  a 
fellow  enjoys  a  comfortable  room  and  wants  to 
stay  in  it.  Sounds  that  came  at  first  mysteri- 
ously from  within,  suddenly  ceased  at  his  pound- 
ing. Evidently  a  consultation  was  holding.  He 
could  hear  the  whisperings. 

Bang,  bang!  went  John's  fist  on  the  door. 

Sh-sh-sh !  came  from  the  other  side. 

"  Get  out  of  the  windows,  boys !  It's  the 
teacher  ;  it's  Uncle  Jim." 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  said  John,  "  it's  I.     Let  me  in." 


74  AN     AUTUMNAL     HAZE. 

"It's  that  bow-legged  prig,  Strong  ;  I  suppose 
we'll  have  to  let  him  in.  If  you  don't  he'll 
rouse  the  Faculty,"  said  a  voice  that  could  be 
easily  recognized  as  that  of  Selfrich.  The  bolts 
were  drawn  with  a  clang,  and  John  beheld  the 
following  spectacle : 

In  the  pallid  light  produced  by  alcohol  and 
salt  ( and  there  is  none  more  ghastly  this  side  of 
the  River  Styx)  John  saw  his  friend  Doc.  Shelby 
ornamenting  the  center  table.  The  hazed  boy 
sat  a-squat  an  over-running  foot  tub  with  his 
night-shirt  on.  His  arms  and  legs  were  dan- 
gling helplessly  over  the  side  of  the  tub.  Five 
masked  and  hooded  figures  were  picturesquely 
stationed  about  him.  The  tall  form  of  Selfrich 
was  clearly  the  leader  of  the  gang.  The  carpet 
was  ripped  up  and  lay  tossed  upon  a  heap  of 
books.  The  pictures  were  turned  upside  down. 
The  pair  of  Indian  clubs  that  usually  stood 
upon  the  mantel-piece  were  dangling  from 
Doc.'s  neck.  The  kerosene  lamp  was  neatly 
put  to  bed  with  sheets  carefully  tucked  around 
the  chimney.  The  wash-bowl  and  the  pitcher 
protruded  from  the  interior  of  the  stove  which 


IN   THE   PALLID   LIGHT   PRODUCED   BY    ALCOHOL    AND  SALT. 


AN    AUTUMNAL    HAZE.  77 

was  reclining  with  the  air  of  an  invalid  upon 
the  lounge.  Shelby's  best  clothes  had  been 
spread  upon  the  floor  and  did  service  as  an 
Axminster  carpet.  The  only  thing  in  the  room 
that  seemed  to  be  in  place  was  Doc.  Shelby's 
spectacles.  These  had  evidently  been  left  for 
the  joke  of  it.  The  sight  was  so  ludicrous  that 
John  himself  could  not  keep  from  laughing. 
But  he  was  ashamed  of  it  as  soon  as  the  first 
sound  had  escaped  him,  for  Shelby  looked  at 
him  with  piteous  astonishment.  The  windows 
were  open.  The  room  was  cold.  The  outraged 
boy  shivered  in  his  tub.  This  was  not  notice- 
able by  the  usual  chattering  of  the  teeth,  but  by 
a  convulsive  bobbing  of  the  spectacles.  At  this 
sight  John  flashed  fire.  If  anything,  he  was 
loyal,  and  the  first  fellow  that  befriended  him  in 
Andover  was  suffering  before  his  eyes. 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves, 
Selfrich  and  the  rest  of  you  fellows,  whoever 
you  are !  I  don't  mind  a  respectable  bit  of 
fooling,  but  to  make  a  fellow  catch  his  death  of 
cold  a  night  like  this  is  outrageous  !  " 

As  John  blurted  this  out  he  walked  up  and 


78  AN     AUTUMNAL     HAZE. 

with  a  quick  motion  emptied  Doc.  out  of  his  tub 
upon  the  table.  The  water  splashed  all  over 
Selfrich  and  wet  the  rest  of  the  conspirators. 
Doc.  had  now  scrambled  upon  his  feet  and  stood 
near  his  preserver,  a  dripping  statue  of  white 
amid  black  and  relentless  ghosts. 

"  Look  here,  you  pious,  bandy-legged  Strong, 
you  !  "  broke  in  the  leader  after  the  first  shock 
of  surprise  at  John's  audacity,  "you  get  right 
out  of  here.  We  are  going  to  put  Goggles 
through,  you  bet." 

"What  has  Doc.  done  to  you?  Come  now, 
what  reason  have  you  for  treating  him  this 
way  ?  "  John  asked  this  question  partly  to  gain 
time,  as  well  as  to  give  Doc.  a  fair  chance  to 
speak  for  himself.  The  question  acted  as  a 
poser  upon  the  hot-headed  boys. 

"He  wears  silly  glasses,"  said  one  voice 
feebly. 

"  He  looks  like  a  prize-fighter,"  said  another, 
as  if  it  were  a  sufficient  reason  for  instant  anni- 
hilation. 

"  He's  the  biggest  fool  in  school,"  said  another 
with  convincing  emphasis. 


AN    AUTUMNAL     HAZE.  79 

Selfrich  had  evidently  been  trying  to  conjure 
up  a  final  argument.  When  his  followers  had 
made  their  petty  excuses,  he  broke  forth  : 

"  I  don't  like  the  fellow.  Nobody  likes  him 
but  you.  That's  reason  enough." 

"That's  a  mighty  lie,  and  you  know  it,"  an- 
swered the  intrepid  lame  boy.  And  now  pick- 
ing up  a  coat  from  the  floor  and  putting  it  over 
the  shivering  lad,  he  said  : 

"  Here,  put  it  on.  Now,  go  into  your  bed- 
room and  dry  yourself  off.  They  won't  trouble 
you  any  more  to-night."  The  boy  gave  him  a 
grateful  glance  and  was  about  to  go,  when  Sel- 
frich broke  out:  "Won't  we,  though?  Here, 
you  fellows,  catch  him.  Don't  you  let  him  go 
in  there."  At  the  same  moment  he  made  a 
lunge  for  Doc.'s  arm,  and  managed  to  catch 
hold  of  his  soaked  night-shirt. 

Rap  !  came  a  dull  thud  which  was  followed 
by  a  shriek  of  pain.  John  had  dealt  Selfrich's 
hand  a  stiff  blow  with  his  faithful  stick.  His 
blood  was  now  thoroughly  up.  He  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  bedroom  door  which  protected 
Doc.  and  said : 


8O  AN     AUTUMNAL    HAZE. 

"  If  you  fellows  want  to  put  any  one  through, 
here  I  am.  I've  got  a  lame  leg,  but  pretty  good 
arms.  I'll  paralyze  a  few  of  you  in  the  process." 

He  swung  his  heavy  stick  ominously.  No 
one  came  on.  Besides,  it  would  not  do  to  at- 
tack one  of  their  own  class.  Selfrich  whispered 
a  moment  with  the  rest  in  a  corner.  Then  he 
scowled  malignantly  at  his  classmate. 

"You'll  be  sorry  for  this,  Johnny.  Let's  go, 
fellows,  now  and  leave  the  babies  together." 
The  dark  procession  tiptoed  themselves  out, 
who  could  tell  to  what  further  mischief  ?  Boys 
know  how  one  determined  spirit  will  master  a 
crowd.  It  was  in  the  natural  course  of  moral 
events  that  John  should  remain  General  in  com- 
mand of  the  field  of  action. 

"  It's  all  right  now,  old  fellow.  Brace  up," 
said  John  to  Doc.  as  the  door  into  the  hall  softly 
closed  behind  the  hazers.  "  I'll  stay  by  until 
you  are  thoroughly  in  order." 

The  fact  was,  he  feared  a  second  attempt  if 
he  left  Doc.  alone,  and  resolved  to  spend  the 
greater  part  of  the  night  with  his  bewildered 
friend. 


AN    AUTUMNAL    HAZE.  8l 

In  truth,  Shelby  needed  a  good  deal  of  cheer- 
ing up.  He  was  thoroughly  dazed.  He  didn't 
know  what  the  whole  business  meant.  He 
couldn't  for  the  life  of  him  imagine  what  the 
boys  had  against  him  to  treat  him  so.  It 
crushed  his  spirit  to  find  out  suddenly  that 
there  was  an  element  in  the  school  that  would 
go  to  such  an  extent  to  prove  its  hostility.  His 
state  was  really  pitiable. 

"  I'll  go  home  to-morrow,"  he  said  to  John. 
"  Nobody  wants  me  here.  Everybody  seems  to 
hate  me." 

"Nonsense,"  said  John,  cheeringly ;  "  Sel- 
frich  and  his  gang  are  the  meanest  fellows  in 
Andover.  They  don't  represent  public  opinion. 
Nobody  respects  them.  You're  all  right." 

In  this  sensible  way  he  gradually  put  Doc. 
into  a  quieter  state  of  mind.  If  boys  would 
only  stop  and  think  before  they  haze  their  vic- 
tim what  the  effect  would  be  on  his  mind  as 
well  as  his  body,  there  would  be  less  meanness 
in  schools.  It  is  not  strange  that  a  sensitive 
nature  suddenly  abused  by  a  force  that  repre- 
sents a  cowardly  average  of  five  or  ten  to  one, 


82  AN    AUTUMNAL     HAZE. 

should  mistake  the  scum  for  the  deep  current 
of  public  opinion. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
John  left.  He  had  put  the  room  to  rights,  so 
that,  save  a  few  extra  spots  here  and  there,  no 
one  could  have  suspected  the  onslaught.  He 
had  watched  the  boy  as  a  slight  fever  seemed 
to  pass  over  him  ;  and  now  Doc.'s  slumber  was 
easy  and  natural.  Nature  had  thrown  off  the 
shock,  and  Doc.  rested  as  peacefully  as  if  he 
had  been  the  cleverest  and  the  most  popular 
boy  in  school,  instead  of  a  plodding  fellow  who 
never  did  the  right  thing  in  spite  of  superfluous 
efforts,  who  never  remembered  what  he  tried 
to  learn,  and  who  felt  the  doom  of  incapacity 
settling  slowly  down  upon  him.  Doc.  slept, 
and  John,  after  a  final  look,  crept  back  through 
the  rain  to  his  own  room  to  get  a  few  hours' 
rest. 

When  he  opened  the  door  and  struck  a  match, 
he  started  back  thinking  that  he  had  gone  into 
the  wrong  room.  But  yes,  it  was  Number  Two, 
and  there  was  his  card  tacked  upon  the  panel. 
If  Doc.  Shelby's  room  was  changed,  John's  was 


AN     AUTUMNAL     HAZE.  83 

transformed  beyond  the  most  astute  power  of 
recognition.  The  stove  had  disappeared.  In 
the  center  of  the  room  was  a  heap  of  wood  and 
coal  capped  by  books  and  pictures,  thoroughly 
drenched  in  water.  The  little  rag  carpet  was 
gone.  The  bedding  was  gone.  The  chairs 
were  gone.  His  trunk  and  clothes  were  gone. 
The  bedstead  was  piled  in  a  conglomerate  heap 
upon  the  wash-bowl  and  pitcher,  which  were 
cracked  and  broken.  It  was  as  complete  a 
wreck  as  if  the  Conemaugh  River  had  swept 
through  from  door  to  door.  The  windows  were 
open,  but  panes  of  glass  were  smashed,  arid 
stones  in  the  room  told  the  manner  of  the  de- 
struction. It  was  not  hard  to  trace  the  vandal 
hand.  John  was  thoroughly  discouraged  and 
disgusted.  It  was  bad  enough  to  sack  a  Mid- 
dler's  room,  but  for  Seniors  to  attack  a  class- 
mate's room  was  an  unparalleled  outrage.  John 
felt  that  it  was  more  than  he  could  bear.  His 
first  impulse  was  to  go  straight  to  Uncle  Jim 
and  tell  him  the  whole  story.  Then  he  chuckled 
to  himself  at  the  audacity  of  the  job,  and  made 
up  his  mind  to  brave  it  through. 


84  AN    AUTUMNAL     HAZE. 

He  soon  found  his  lamp  in  the  coal  closet  and 
lit  up  the  ruined  scene.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that  John  worked  the  rest  of  the  night.  The 
pictures  were  re-hung.  The  bed,  table  and 
chairs  were  mended  and  put  in  their  places. 
The  jagged  panes  of  glass  were  carefully  taken 
out.  When  the  first  gleams  of  daylight  came, 
he  made  a  systematic  search  for  the  rest  of  his 
belongings.  His  stove  was  near  by  in  the  hall, 
rusty  with  a  good  drenching,  but  otherwise  un- 
injured. This  he  polished  up  and  put  in  place. 
His  bedding  was  rescued  from  the  coal  cellar 
below.  Other  articles  were  soon  discovered 
waving  from  adjacent  apple-trees.  He  worked 
with  a  proud  vim.  At  five  he  trotted  down 
town,  roused  up  a  glazier,  got  some  panes  of 
glass  and  putty,  and  by  half-past  six  his  windows 
looked  better  than  ever  before.  His  rag  carpet 
was  swept,  turned  and  tacked  securely  over  the 
puddle  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

By  breakfast  time  his  victory  was  complete. 
No  visitor  could  have  suspected  the  tragedy  of 
the  night  before.  John  himself  was  as  smiling, 
as  non-committal  as  you  please.  At  prayers 


AN     AUTUMNAL     HAZE.  85 

that  morning  all  the  boys  looked  at  him  curi- 
ously, for  Selfrich  had  well  circulated  the  fact 
of  the  catastrophe  in  John  Strong's  room. 

When  some  asked  him  how  he  was  and 
whether  his  room  were  all  right,  John  answered 
briskly  that  as  far  as  he  knew  everything  was 
straight.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  his  class- 
mates were  considerably  puzzled  as  to  the  real 
state  of  affairs.  After  the  first  recitation,  when 
John  was  looking  out  of  his  fresh  windows  he 
saw  Selfrich  walking  by  with  some  of  his 
hangers-on,  laughing  uproariously.  Then  John 
darted  out  as  quickly  as  he  could,  stopped  them 
with  a  pleasant  gesture  and  said  : 

"  Halloo,  Selfrich  !  come  in,  all  of  you,  and  see 
how  nicely  I  am  fixed.  You  have  never  given 
me  a  call.  Come  in  for  a  moment." 

An  interested  crowd  had  collected.  The 
conspirators  tried  to  beg  off,  but  John  insisted, 
and  they  all  went  in,  to  a  man.  Everything 
was  in  apple-pie  order.  Selfrich  looked  in  vain 
for  evidence  of  his  dastardly  deed.  His  face 
fell  more  and  more  as  he  perceived  that  John 
had  foiled  him  before  so  many  fellows. 


86  AN     AUTUMNAL     HAZE. 

"  By  the  way,  Selfrich,"  said  John  loudly,  so 
that  all  could  hear,  when  they  parted,  "  if  you 
hear  any  fellows  saying  that  my  room  was 
sacked  last  night,  you  can  deny  it,  as  you  have 
seen  it  for  yourself.  Good-by !  " 

The  crowd  set  up  a  regular  yell.  Boys  ad- 
mire pluck  and  good  humor  ;  above  all  they 
respect  one  when  he  gets  out  of  a  scrape  with- 
out telling  his  grievance  to  the  Faculty  or  whin- 
ing about  it  to  the  boys.  They  admire  a  cheerful 
stoicism,  and  John  captured  his  class  that  day 
by  his  manly  forbearance.  They  easily  saw  the 
reason  of  his  courtesy  to  Selfrich  and  applauded 
his  good-natured  victory  over  the  unpopular 
bully.  But  when  they  heard  later  in  the  day 
how  Strong  had  protected  Doc.  Shelby,  and 
that  Shelby  could  not  leave  his  room  in  con- 
sequence of  his  ill-treatment  at  the  hands  of 
Selfrich,  then  enthusiasm  for  the  lame  boy 
took  a  more  permanent  form. 

So  when  the  fall  term  had  passed  away,  John 
had  a  positive  following  in  the  class,  not  because 
he  went  to  prayer-meeting,  though  he  did  ;  and 
not  because  he  proved  a  fair  debater  or  a  steady 


AN     AUTUMNAL     HAZE.  8/ 

and  almost  brilliant  scholar,  for  the  mere  "dig" 
is  never  popular,  but  because  he  had  proved 
himself  a  downright  manly  fellow. 

But  Selfrich,  as  you  will  see,  did  not  give  up 
the  game  so  easily. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A   PUSH    AND    A    POSER. 

WHAT  is  more  dismal  than  a  poor  boy's 
homeless  vacation  ?  The  Phillips 
Commons  are  dreary  enough  at  best :  but  to  be 
one  of  two  or  three  lonely  fellows  trying  to 
make  those  dark  hulks  cheerful  during  the  cold 
Christmas  holidays  is  an  ordeal  that  requires 
brave  endurance.  No  one  can  fathom  the 
amount  of  silent  suffering  bottled  up  in  the 
heart  of  a  boy  struggling  for  an  education 
against  poverty,  physical  misfortune,  and  a  sen- 
sitive nature.  John  Strong  could  not  afford  to 
go  home.  Lambkin's  family  had  the  measles  — 
six  cases  :  so  he  stayed  too.  Thus  it  came 
about  very  naturally  that,  after  the  friends  had 
eaten  their  late  breakfast  with  solitary  propriety 
at  the  Senior  table  of  the  Milktoast  Club, 
where  bread  and  potatoes  had  become  food  in- 
88 


A     PUSH     AND     A     POSER.  89 

stead  of  ammunition,  they  should  grow  chummy 
in  each  other's  rooms.  The  burly,  irrepressible, 
good  humor  that  Lambkin  possessed  was  a  nat- 
ural foil  to  Strong's  finer  temperament. 

Andover  had  brought  great  changes  to  our 
new  Senior,  but  none  surprised  him  so  much  as 
a  new  feeling  of  physical  hopefulness.  At 
times  this  swept  over  him  like  a  great  wave  of 
joy.  The  cripple,  who  had  always  looked  upon 
his  lameness  as  a  permanent  affliction,  began  to 
dream  of  sometime  running  like  other  boys. 
These  hopes  came  after  he  had  tried  the  experi- 
ment of  walking  to  recitation  without  his  heavy 
stick.  In  spite  of  the  fresh  spasms  of  pain,  and 
the  exhaustion,  he  felt  that  the  time  might  soon 
come  when  it  could  be  done.  One  morning 
after  the  invariable  breakfast  of  oatmeal  and 
milk  Lambkin  said  : 

"  Let's  go  to  the  Gym.  and  bowl." 
Now  John  had  shunned  no  spot  more  per- 
sistently than  the  old  gymnasium.  It  was 
the  place  for  athletes,  and  not  for  him.  Why 
add  a  fresh  aggravation  to  life  by  witnessing 
further  exhibitions  of  other  fellows'  activity? 


QO  A     PUSH     AND     A    POSER. 

And  so  John  answered  with  surprise  and  some 
indignation  : 

"  To  the  Gym.  ?  I  to  the  Gym.  ?  Why,  you 
must  be  fooling." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.     Why  shouldn't  you  go  ? " 

"  But  what  can  I  do  ?  It's  no  fun  looking 
on." 

"  Of  course  you  don't  know  what  you  can  do 
without  trying,  old  boy.  Have  you  ever  been 
there  ?  " 

"  No,  and  "  — 

"Well,  come  on.  We'll  have  the  old  barn  all 
to  ourselves.  You  can  try  to  do  something,  and 
if  you  make  a  dead  flunk,  I  won't  give  you  away." 

So  the  two  boys  ploughed  their  way  through 
the  choicest  of  Andover  "  corner  drifts,"  up 
Salem  Street,  until  they  stood  panting  before 
the  door  of  a  forbidding  brick  building,  com- 
monly known  to  the  boys  as  the  "  Gym."  The 
place  was  guarded  by  desolate  and  leafless  trees. 
Their  limbs  swayed  and  cracked  under  the  load 
of  ice  as  the  boys  approached. 

Lambkin  swung  open  the  door  with  a  vigor- 
ous push,  and  a  damp,  chilling,  dusty  breath 


A    PUSH    AND     A     POSER.  9! 

which  puffed  out,  did  anything  but  encourage 
the  new  athletic  aspirant.  The  bowling  alleys 
opened  before  them,  and  chipped  balls  lay  dis- 
consolately along  their  gutters.  On  the  left,  the 
stairs  ascended  to  the  upper  story  where  the 
leathern  horse  and  the  jumping  board  seemed 
frozen  to  the  floor.  The  dust  alone  rose  to 
greet  these  two  with  its  usual  hospitality.  But 
Lambkin  glowed  with  the  feeling  of  a  gymnastic 
sponsor.  He  put  up  the  pins  and  John  man- 
aged to  roll  the  balls  merrily.  Indeed,  had 
these  young  fellows  not  made  pretty  good  time, 
the  unwarmed  December  dungeon  would  have 
converted  them  into  frozen  nine-pins.  Pretty 
soon  Lambkin  produced  a  base-ball  and  made 
John  pitch.  "  This  will  act  upon  another  set 
of  muscles,"  he  said. 

Now  John's  hands  and  arms,  as  is  often  the 
case  when  another  member  is  disabled,  were 
abnormally  strong.  He  had  hardly  found  it  out 
himself.  John  began  awkwardly ;  he  had  never 
handled  a  ball  before.  He  soon  became  inter- 
ested. Bending  forward  or  balancing  himself 
on  his  well  right  side  he  sent  the  balls  so  swiftly 


92  A    PUSH    AND     A     POSER. 

that  even  Lambkin's  capacious  hands  tingled  as 
he  stopped  and  held  the  stinging  missile. 

"  What  a  pitcher  you  are  !  "  said  Lambkin, 
looking  towards  Strong  in  amazement  after  sev- 
eral minutes  of  vain  wrestling  with  the  ball. 
"  Where  did  you  get  it  from  ?  " 

John  made  no  answer.  The  consciousness  of 
physical  power  came  to  the  invalid  lad  with  a 
thrill  that  made  him  shiver.  No  well  boy  can 
understand  this.  John  looked  across  the  dreary 
building  out  of  the  high  windows.  It  was  be- 
ginning to  snow.  To  the  end  of  his  life  he  will 
remember  how  that  old  gymnasium  looked  at 
that  moment.  The  gaunt,  cobwebbed  windows 
revealed  dead  branches  waving  fantastically  be- 
fore the  coming  storm.  John  was  silent  and 
did  not  answer  Lambkin's  question.  He  turned 
his  back.  Lambkin  came  up,  touched  John 
upon  the  arm,  turned  him  about,  and  saw  tears 
in  his  eyes. 

This  memorable  scene  wa*  the  first  of  many 
such,  and  the  dawning  possibilities  of  physical 
achievement  made  this  homeless  vacation  the 
cheeriest  memory  of  the  lame  boy's  life. 


A     PUSH     AND     A     POSER.  95 

But  now  the  boys,  the  theologues,  and  the 
Fern.  Sems.  had  come  back.  Roger  Mansfield's 
penetrating  whistle  had  recalled  John  Calvin  to 
his  theological  studies.  This  circumstance  was 
a  great  relief  to  the  Hill.  For  John  Calvin 
had  been  left  during  the  vacation  with  Mr. 
Locks,  who  had  put  him  faithfully  to  bed  in  the 
cellar  of  the  old  chapel.  There  he  had  been 
bolted  in  at  night,  and  every  morning  Mr.  Locks 
was  mightily  surprised  to  find  him  mournfully 
sitting  on  the  stoop  of  Bartlett  Hall  looking 
expectantly  down  the  street  for  his  master. 
How  did  he  get  out  ?  The  fact  was,  that  when 
night  and  loneliness  came  on,  the  dog  began  to 
wail  and  howl  to  such  an  extent  that  sleep  in 
the  neighborhood  proved  impossible.  Unsanc- 
tified  terms  were  freely  expressed  by  those 
whose  theology  was  above  suspicion.  The  shiv- 
ering theologues,  such  as  were  left,  had  taken 
turns  in  slipping  from  their  historic  and  wind- 
rocked  beds  to  steal  down  in  sniall  clothes  and 
let  the  dissenting  member  of  the  Seminary 
loose.  Things  had  come  to  such  a  pass  that 
Strong,  responding  to  a  deputation  of  desperate 


96  A     PUSH     AND    A     POSER. 

citizens,  had  taken  the  dog  to  his  own  room. 
His  kindness  was  rewarded  with  the  prompt 
desertion  of  John  Calvin  through  four  panes  of 
glass  when  his  master's  whistle  sounded  from 
the  stage-coach  in  front  of  the  Cheever  House. 

Perhaps  John  Calvin  felt  that  he  had  been 
guilty  of  a  breach  of  hospitality,  for  the  first 
morning  that  the  cousins  met,  the  dog's  abrupt 
apology  tossed  John  Strong  into  the  furry  snow. 

"  How  are  you,  John  ?  Had  a  good  vacation  ? 
He  didn't  mean  it.  It  is  a  way  he  has.  Charge, 
Calvin  !  Charge,  I  say,  you  brute  !  You  look 
a  different  fellow.  What's  up  ?  " 

The  gay  theologue  had  caught  John  on  his 
way  from  Uncle  Jim's  furnace  to  the  recita- 
tion room.  The  two  stopped  and  shook  hands 
warmly  while  the  dog  conscientiously  kicked 
the  snow  with  his  hind  legs  all  over  them. 

"  Pretty  fair !  I  say  it's  lucky  you  came  as 
soon  as  you  did,  otherwise  you'd  have  found  a 
dead  dog  or  have  been  murdered  yourself  on 
your  return,"  laughed  John. 

The  boy  looked  under-dressed  beside  the 
great  fur-lined  ulster  his  Cousin  Roger  wore. 


A    PUSH    AND    A    POSER.  97 

Mansfield  noticed  the  glaring  difference.  His 
hands  were  in  fur ;  John's  were  bare ;  one 
was  hidden  in  a  scant  side  pocket,  while  the 
other  held  tightly  to  his  stick.  The  blue  shone 
through  at  the  knuckles,  the  purple  at  the  tips 
of  the  fingers.  Roger's  /ace  dropped  into  sad- 
ness, and  a  feeling  of  unworthiness  came  over 
him.  In  an  embarrassed  way  he  answered  :  "  O, 
yes  ;  Calvin  is  a  dreadful  rogue  —  always  getting 
me  into  trouble.  Come  and  see  me.  Good-by." 
John  Strong,  misunderstanding  his  cousin's 
brusqueness,  did  not  suspect  that  the  sight  of 
his  poverty  and  his  pluck  had  touched  a  usually 
nonchalant  heart  with  a  sense  of  shame. 

"  O-oh !  isn't  it  cold  ?  My  room  is  cold  as 
an  Esquimau's  grave."  Doc.  Shelby  was  the 
speaker.  A  great  cake  of  snow  thrown  by 
some  fellow  behind,  had  just  landed  on  his  coat 
collar.  He  shook  it  off  with  a  rueful  gesture 
towards  the  back  of  his  neck  down  which  a  few 
pounds,  more  or  less,  of  slush  were  dribbling. 

"  Selfrich  again  !  "  said  John.  "  Don't  look  at 
him,  Doc.  I'll  brush  it  out  of  your  neck." 


98  A     PUSH    AND    A    POSER. 

The  path  was  narrow.  It  had  been  ploughed 
out,  and  the  snow  had  been  thrown  up  so  that 
it  reached  almost  to  the  shoulders  of  the  boys. 
Three  fellows  came  down  arm  in  arm,  and 
would  have  elbowed  the  two  into  the  drift  had 
not  John  straightened  himself  up  and  looked 
threateningly  at  them,  stick  in  hand. 

"  You  fellers  together  again,"  sneered  Self- 
rich.  "The  owl  and  the  bat !  I  hear,  Johnny, 
you  are  going  to  sneak  in  on  the  nine,  practic- 
ing in  the  Gym.  on  the  sly !  You'll  pitch  a  fine 
bow-legged  curve.  He  looks  like  it,  doesn't 
he  ? " 

The  other  two  boys  seemed  this  time  a  bit 
ashamed  of  their  leader  and  didn't  answer.  As 
they  passed  in  single  file,  Selfrich  fell  to  the 
rear,  and  when  he  was  opposite  Doc.  Shelby,  the 
Senior  gave  the  Middler  a  tremendous  shove 
into  the  bank  of  snow.  Doc.  plunged  head-first 
in  and  sank  out  of  sight,  all  but  his  legs.  Self- 
rich  and  the  two  ran  on  with  loud  laughter 
while  John,  with  stern,  set  mouth,  picked  the 
floundering  Middler  up. 

"  Oh  !  "  Doc.  gasped,  "  I  thought  he'd  let  me 


A     PUSH     AND    A     POSER.  99 

alone  this  term.     I'm  so  cold  !  "      He  trembled 
violently.     His  spectacles  had  been  lost  in  the 
snow,  as  well  as  his  hat.     His  face  was  livid. 
His    prominent   eyes    stared   helplessly.     In   a 
stupid  way  he  kept  repeating,  "  Why  did  he 
shove  me  ?     Why  did  he  shove  me  ?  " 
•     John  saw  that  something  must  be  done.    Doc. 
was  evidently  the  worse  for  the  tumble,  more  so 
than   the    occasion    demanded.     Since    he   had 
been  hazed  last  term,  Doc.   Shelby  had  never 
been  the  same  lad.     He  had  lost  what  the  boys 
called  his  "  spunkiness."     He  became  subdued 
and  suspicious.     Only  John  Strong  understood 
that  Doc.'s  paleness   and  new  hesitancy  grew 
from  that  hazing,  the  memory  of  which  made 
Doc.    Shelby   often    shriek   with    fright    as    he 
underwent  the  torture  again  in  nightmare  hor- 
rors.    But  now  he  was  suffering.     It  would  not 
do  for  him  to  go  to  class  hatless  or  glassless  ; 
without  his  spectacles  he  was  practically  blind. 
The  blast  blew  cuttingly  across  the  open  field 
and    struck    like    flails    upon    face   and    hands. 
How   could    Doc.   face   it    uncovered  ?       John 
glanced  at  the  seminary  clock.     In  five  minutes 


IOO  A    PUSH     AND    A    POSER. 

the  examination  would  begin  —  the  first  and  the 
most  dreaded  one  of  the  term.  Uncle  Jim 
taught  geometry,  and  he  brooked  no  tardiness, 
much  less  an  absence,  during  his  examinations. 
John  had  "  boned"  like  a  Trojan  for  this  special 
ordeal.  He  would  have  been  ashamed  to  fail 
or  even  to  stumble  under  Uncle  Jim,  and  he 
was  looked  upon  both  by  the  Principal  and  the 
boys  as  the  leader  of  the  class  in  mathematics. 
During  the  moment  of  decision  a  troop  of  Fern. 
Sems.  dressed  in  furs,  with  laughing,  rosy  faces, 
came  up  the  walk.  John  noticed  that  Selfrich 
and  his  companions  had  bowed  ostentatiously 
to  the  girls,  some  of  whom  coquettishly  waved 
their  muffs.  John  and  Shelby  stood  aside  to 
let  them  pass.  John  had  hastily  undone  a 
tippet  he  had  around  his  neck  and  was  binding 
it  over  Doc.'s  chattering  head.  The  last  girl  in 
the  line  halted  before  the  two  boys. 

"  Come  on,  Elva ;  what  are  you  stopping 
for  ?  "  said  her  companion  pettishly. 

The  girl's  face  was  familiar  to  John,  but  she 
seemed  like  a  new  girl  now.  He  had  never 
seen  her  so  near  before.  There  were  lines  of 


A    PUSH     AND    A     POSER.  IOI 

sweetness  in  her  face  more  marked  than  is 
generally  the  case  in  so  young  a  girl,  but  some- 
thing in  the  cut  of  her  features  faintly  recalled 
to  John  one  of  his  classmates. 

"  He  looks  hurt  and  cold,"  said  a  voice,  flut- 
tering with  sympathy.  Her  eyes  rested  on  John 
as  she  spoke,  with  a  look  of  unguarded  approval. 

"  Yes,  Miss,"  said  John  with  great  shyness. 
"A  fellow  just  knocked  him  into  the  bank 
there.  He's  lost  his  hat  and  glasses  and  can't 
see.  He  isn't  very  tough.  It's  shaken  him  up 
pretty  badly.  He  seems  all  chilled  through." 

"  Here,  put  this  cape  on  him."  The  girl 
with  a  quick  motion  had  flung  off  a  sealskin 
cape  and  handed  it  to  John.  She  added  hur- 
riedly, "  You  can  give  it  to  my  brother  for  me. 
His  name  is  Selfrich." 

With  another  bright  look  at  John  and  a  pity- 
ing one  at  Doc.,  she  ran  after  the  other  girls 
who  greeted  her  with  laughter  and  derisive 
sympathy. 

"  What  a  sister  to  what  a  brother  !  "  thought 
John,  but  he  had  no  time  to  think  anything 
more  about  it  then.  Shelby  was  now  shivering 


IO2  A    PUSH     AND    A    POSER. 

madly.  John  flung  the  warm  cape  over  his  head 
and  hurried  him  to  2,  2,  Latin  Commons,  which 
boasted  a  fire  that  struggled  to  defy  impetuous 
draughts  and  open  cracks.  Shelby  was  cer- 
tainly pretty  sick.  He  had  dressed  that  morn- 
ing in  a  room  without  a  fire.  A  Commons  boy 
can  understand  what  that  means  ;  no  one  else 
can  so  well  appreciate  the  necessity  of  thawing 
a  wash-bowl  and  a  tooth-brush  which  persist  in 
freezing  next  to  a  red-hot  fire  in  some  of  those 
gaping  rooms.  The  subsequent  cold  douche 
and  perhaps  the  outrage  repeated  by  the  same 
old  hazing  gang  had  given  Doc.  a  mental  as 
well  as  a  physical  shock,  which,  following  right 
upon  a  previous  chill,  threatened  to  become 
serious.  John  had  no  time  to  spend  with  Doc. 
now.  He  hurriedly  put  him  in  a  chair  before 
the  fire,  turned  on  the  draughts,  shut  the  bed- 
room door,  and  left  him  with  a  cheery  : 

"  Now,  Doc.,  you  stay  here  until  I  come  back ; 
I'll  fix  you  all  right  then  and  see  that  you  get 
excused."  Then  he  hurried  off  to  his  examina- 
tion, absent-mindedly  taking  up  his  geometry 
as  he  left  the  room. 


A     PUSH    AND    A    POSER.  IO5 

It  had  long  been  a  debatable  question  at 
Phillips  Academy  whether  it  imparts  a  more 
penetrating  chill  to  face  one  of  those  old-fash- 
ioned January  blasts  as  it  comes  howling  and 
whistling  up  the  valleys,  ricochetting  from  build- 
ing to  corner  and  invariably  playing  the  mis- 
chief with  noses  and  ears,  or  to  face  one  of  Uncle 
Jim's  mathematical  examinations.  John  hurried 
upstairs  into  the  Senior  room,  Number  9,  as  fast 
as  his  legs  could  carry  him ;  he  was  fully  ten 
minutes  late.  All  eyes  were  raised  in  wonder 
as  he  came  in  amid  the  intense  hush  which  that 
particular  brain  work  demanded.  Uncle  Jim 
had  been  pacing  the  floor  and  darting  vivid 
glances  here  and  there  to  intercept  a  notorious 
few  from  their  innate  tendency  to  "  crib."  Self- 
rich  was  the  most  prominent  among  this  cata- 
logue of  worthies.  At  the  moment  that  John 
quietly  opened  the  door  Uncle  Jim  was  standing 
with  his  back  to  it,  contemplating  a  suspicious 
pair  of  cuffs  over  which  Selfrich  was  pulling 
down  his  coat-sleeves  carelessly,  while  he  looked 
everywhere  else.  The  question  as  to  how  many 
problems  of  Euclid  can  be  transferred  to  a 


IO6  A     PUSH    AND    A     POSER. 

square  inch  of  laundry  is  alas  !  not  a  new  one 
in  this  or  other  fitting  schools. 

The  door  bunted  against  the  august  Principal, 
who  replied  with  a  threatening  sound.  This 
was  the  first  time  that  John  Strong  had  opened 
himself  to  the  least  of  criticisms  from  his  in- 
structor and  friend.  The  tide  of  favor  toward 
the  struggling  lad  had  been  rising  steadily  in 
Uncle  Jim's  mind.  There  are  times  when  im- 
pressions are  so  vague  and  volitions  so  intricate 
that  even  the  most  conscientious  man  cannot, 
for  the  life  of  him,  tell  why  in  his  mind  the 
tide  of  good-will  toward  any  one  has  reached 
its  height  and  is  about  to  recede.  Perhaps  this 
tardiness  of  John's  became  an  unconscious  turn- 
ing point  in  the  favor  of  his  terrible  Principal 
which  the  good  man  would  never  have  acknowl- 
edged if  he  had  been  brought  to  face  it. 

"  What,  sir  ?  You,  sir  ?  Late  ?  Ten  marks, 
sir.  I  am  surprised.  Take  your  papers,"  point- 
ing at  the  desk,  "  and  sit  there  on  the  front  seat." 

The  severe  forefinger  indicated  a  vacant  space 
between  Selfrich  and  another  suspicious  charac- 
ter. The  Doctor  frowned  upon  the  unfortunate 


A    PUSH    AND     A     POSER.  IO/ 

lad.  Self  rich  gave  an  open  sneer.  But  John 
quietly  took  the  front  seat  of  disgrace  and  bent 
to  his  writing. 

There  were  five  questions.  These  were  put 
upon  the  blackboard.  The  perfect  mark  on 
each  was  twenty.  Three  at  least  must  be  an- 
swered perfectly  in  order  to  pass.  They  were 
anything  but  easy,  and  many  of  the  boys  were 
staring  stupidly  from  the  window  to  the  shield 
of  Achilles  posed  upon  the  wall.  This  was  their 
method  of  raising  inspiration. 

John  pushed  his  book  away  from  him  when 
he  found  that  against  the  rules  he  had  taken  it 
in.  The  edges  of  a  card  could  be  seen  between 
the  leaves.  John  worked  rapidly  and  success- 
fully. He  did  not  touch  the  book,  nor  need  to. 
Selfrich  eyed  that  Euclid  with  longing.  With 
a  mock  gesture  of  disgust  he  adroitly  threw  a 
paper  over  it.  He  then  recollected  himself, 
with  a  superb  unconsciousness  reached  for  his 
paper  and  managed  to  extract  the  card  from  the 
geometry  at  the  same  time.  Who  could  notice 
the  act  when  done  by  so  accomplished  a  hand  ? 
When  Selfrich  examined  his  booty  under  cover 
of  his  own  work,  a  smile  of  satisfaction  crept 


IO8  A     PUSH     AND     A     POSER. 

over  his  evil  face.  Among  the  questions  given 
the  last  one  was  the  hardest.  It  was  an  original 
problem  which  had  been  explained  to  the  class 
at  the  previous  recitation.  It  was  very  difficult 
and  intricate.  Uncle  Jim  had  asked  each  of 
the  class  to  prepare  his  own  demonstration  of 
it.  John,  with  his  usual  thoroughness,  had 
worked  late  and  had  finally  solved  the  theorem. 
Most  of  the  boys  had  not  thought  that  Uncle 
Jim  would  be  "  mean  enough  "  to  bring  up  the 
last  lesson  at  this  critical  time.  They  had  not 
troubled  themselves  about  it.  But  here  it  was, 
to  the  astonishment  and  dismay  of  the  whole 
class. 

John  glanced  cheerily  at  the  blackboard. 
The  first  four  questions  were  quickly  answered, 
and  now  he  blessed  his  stars  for  his  evening's 
work.  Before  the  time  was  up  he  snapped  his 
fingers  and  gave  his  paper  to  the  Principal  who 
regarded  him  more  graciously. 

When  he  finished  his  examination  John  was 
at  liberty  to  go.  He  hurried  from  the  room  to 
his  sick  friend  and  forgot  all  about  his  book. 
He  did  not  suspect  the  storm  that  was  to  burst 
upon  him  next  morning. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

WHO    CHEATED  ? 

DOC.  SHELBY  was  seriously  ill,  and 
when  John  had  returned,  radiant  from 
his  successful  examination,  he  found  the  lad 
alternating  between  hot  fever  and  rigorous 
chills.  With  the  alacrity  of  a  hospitable  fellow, 
John  took  his  bed  to  pieces  and  moved  it  from 
its  place  in  the  rear  room  to  the  study.  This 
apartment  was  barely  large  enough  to  accommo- 
date the  additional  strain  upon  its  resources.  It 
measured  exactly  twelve  feet  six  by  twelve  feet ; 
but  it  was  a  drawing-room  compared  to  his 
bedroom,  which  extended  six  feet  nine  inches 
to  the  north  and  six  feet  seven  and  a  half 
inches  east  and  west.  John  hurriedly  put 
Shelby  to  bed  and  hastened  for  the  nearest 
of  the  half-dozen  village  doctors.  This  disci- 
ple of  yEsculapius  proved  to  be  a  young  man 
109 


HO  WHO     CHEATED? 

with  a  vigorous  constitution,  who  pronounced 
Doc.'s  indisposition  "  a  cold  induced  by  malaria 
arid  aggravated  by  exposure."  He  promptly 
prescribed,  quinine,  three  grains,  three  times  a 
day,  and  rest  for  a  few  hours,  and  left. 

Thus  began  the  first  day  of  Doc.'s  life  in  St. 
John's  Hospital.  When  he  had  recovered  from 
his  attack  of  fever  both  of  the  boys  looked  for- 
ward with  a  hope  to  a  speedy  release.  John 
had  brought  over  Doc.'s  clothes  and  bedding 
and  had  installed  himself  in  the  second  dimin- 
utive bedroom  which  until  now  had  only  been 
opened  occasionally  to  inspect  his  half-empty 
horse-hair  trunk. 

The  next  day  shone  brightly.  True,  John 
had  slept  only  a  few  hours.  He  had  taken  care 
of  Doc.  during  all  his  spare  time  up  to  eight  at 
night.  The  sick  boy  would  hardly  allow  John 
to  take  up  a  book.  John  had  studied  till  twelve. 
Then  he  crept  into  his  cold  bed.  He  was  not 
ashamed  to  kneel  down  first  and  pray  for  Doc. 
Next  morning  he  was  up  at  six.  Then  came 
Uncle  Jim's  furnace,  breakfast,  a  few  minutes 
with  Doc.,  prayers,  and  a  recitation  in  geometry. 


WHO     CHEATED  ?  ITT 

As  he  walked  into  class  he  saw  that  the 
boys  regarded  him  with  curious  glances  while 
some  turned  away  with  looks  of  disappointment 
and  aversion.  None  spoke  to  him.  He  could 
not  help  noticing  with  wonder  the  marked 
change.  When  he  entered,  Selfrich  whispered 
loud  enough  for  all  to  hear : 

"  See,  the  conquering  hero  comes  !  " 
The  Senior  class  took  their  seats  alphabeti- 
cally. This  was  the  morning  when  they  were 
to  be  seated  according  to  examination  rank. 
John  sat  down  quietly.  He  spoke  to  Lambkin, 
The  big  fellow  answered  by  stroking  his  side 
whiskers,  the  only  pair  in  the  class,  and  looking 
at  John  mournfully. 

Let  us  step  for  a  moment  behind  the  scenes, 
before  the  Academy  bell  rings,  and  the  curtain 
of  events  rolls  up. 

Selfrich  had  copied  the  difficult  problem 
which  John  had  so  arduously  worked  out  from 
the  card  he  had  "hooked."  He  had  then 
watched  his  opportunity  and  had  slipped  it  back 
again  into  John's  book.  This  Selfrich  pushed 


1 12  WHO     CHEATED  ? 

along  the  seat  near  enough  to  John  to  be  con- 
cealed by  the  flaps  of  his  overcoat  as  he  was 
looking  the  other  way. 

After  the  examination  was  over,  and  Uncle 
Jim  with  a  baleful  smile  had  collected  the  papers 
from  the  saddened  boys  and  had  left,  Selfrich 
broke  out  and  said  : 

"  You  fellows  know  that  I  don't  like  that  fel- 
low Strong.  It  is  because  I  always  thought  he 
was  a  hypocrite.  Now  you  see  if  his  exami- 
nation isn't  perfect.  Why  ?  The  sly  coon  for- 
got his  book  and  there  it  is,  and  I'll  bet  stews 
for  the  crowd  that  any  one  can  open  to  the  very 
questions.  I  saw  him  open  the  book  myself 
under  his  overcoat.  Nobody  could  see  him  but 
me.  I  watched  him  like  a  cat.  I  haven't  put  the 
job  up  this  time.  The  book  speaks  for  itself." 

Some  of  the  boys  cried  : 

"  Oh  !  shut  up,  Selfrich  ;  can't  you  leave 
Strong  alone  ?  "  while  many  listened  and  almost 
believed.  One  fellow  known  by  the  nickname 
of  "  Sunshine  "  cheerfully  said  : 

"  We'll  be  fair  to  the  fellow.  He's  poor 
enough  and  needs  it.  I'll  look  at  the  book." 


WHO     CHEATED?  113 

As  he  opened  it  the  card  fell  out  from  a  page 
on  which  another  examination  problem  was 
printed.  Sunshine  scowled  and  said  : 

"  If  that  Soup  is  such  a  hypocrite  I  for  one 
will  cut  him  dead.  I'd  just  as  lief  he'd  crib  as 
not  if  he  didn't  set  up  to  be  so  virtuous  about 
it." 

How  quickly  in  the  unreasonable  flurry  of  the 
minute,  boys  will  change  a  righteous  opinion 
based  on  facts  ! 

Selfrich  did  not  lose  his  advantage. 

"  You  fellows  remember,"  he  said  cunningly, 
"  when  the  Depravity  Professor's  windows  were 
whitewashed  and  the  town  hose  was  found  in 
the  street,  and  you,"  pointing  to  a  laughing  lad, 
"  were  almost  fired  ?  Well,  who  told  ?  They 
say  that  Bow-legs  found  out  and  gave  the  whole 
job  away  to  Uncle  Jim." 

The  boys  were  profoundly  impressed  with 
this  new  view  of  Strong's  character.  They 
separated,  talking  in  groups,  and  before  night 
John  was  the  most  unpopular  fellow  in  Phillips 
Academy.  All  the  ignominious  offenses  of  the 
term  were  quickly  heaped  upon  his  blemisl 


114  WHO     CHEATED? 

reputation.  It  is  thus  that  a  contemptible  cur 
can  by  his  malignity  influence  scores  of  honest 
fellows  to  suspect  the  honor  of  an  unsullied 
classmate. 

A  hush  fell  over  the  room.  Uncle  Jim  stalked 
in  with  more  than  usual  noise  and  solemnity. 
An  ominous  frown  clouded  his  massive  face. 
The  two  furrows  above  his  eyes  looked  dark  and 
deep.  The  boys  were  on  the  qui  vive.  Some- 
thing uncommon  was  coming.  Selfrich  winked 
from  the  class  towards  Strong  as  much  as  to- 
say  :  "  I  told  you  so.  He'll  catch  it  at  last." 

The  terrible  disciplinarian  waited  for  a  few 
moments  until  the  bell  stopped  ringing,  and  then 
casting  a  look  around  to  see  that  all  the  places 
were  filled,  began  with  deep  tones  of  disgust : 

"  This  examination  is  the  most  astonishing 
exhibition  of  ignorance  ever  given  in  Phillips 
Academy.  Gentlemen,  your  ears  ought  to 
tingle  when  I  tell  you  that  only  one  member  of 
the  class  has  passed  the  ordeal  with  a  perfect 
mark.  Mr.  Strong,  stand  up,  sir,  and  take  your 
seat  at  the  head  of  the  Senior  class." 


WHO     CHEATED?  115 

John  arose  with  his  usual  modesty.  As  he 
did  so,  a  hiss  started  along  the  seats.  The 
Principal  sternly  checked  it  with  a  vigorous 
thump  upon  the  desk. 

"  Let  the  gentlemen  take  their  seats  in  the 
following  order." 

He  read  off  a  list  of  names  with  lightning 
rapidity.  The  boys  took  their  seats  as  quickly 
as  possible.  Only  one  was  left  standing  in  this 
hubbub  of  readjustment.  Selfrich  looked  ap- 
pealingly  at  Uncle  Jim,  and  with  a  visible  fall- 
ing off  of  his  pertness  and  confidence  said  : 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  you  omitted  my  name," 
then  he  added  with  a  complacent  smile,  "am 
I  conditioned  ?  " 

The  Principal  regarded  him  with  a  new  ex- 
pression which  was  as  yet  uncatalogued  among 
those  experienced  by  his  pupils.  One  would 
have  sworn  it  to  be  a  look  of  respectful  admi- 
ration, had  not  his  pupils  contracted  and  ex- 
panded in  a  way  that  boded  no  good  to  the 
hypocrite.  Uncle  Jim  spoke  in  caressing  tones. 

"  Mr.  Selfrich,  I  have  reserved  a  place  for 
you.  Gentlemen,"  turning  to  the  class,  "only 


I  16  WHO     CHEATED  ? 

two  of  you  were  able  to  solve  the  last  problem 
correctly.  Mr.  Selfrich  is  one  of  these." 

The  scholars  noticed  a  peculiar  emphasis  on 
Mister  that  made  them  stare. 

"Mr.  Selfrich,"  continued  Uncle  Jim  suavely 
"take  this  piece  of  chalk  and  write  out  your 
remarkably  original  demonstration  for  the  in- 
struction of  the  class.  Do  you  hear,  sir?  use 
that  blackboard  !  " 

Selfrich  grew  deadly  pale.  His  hands  shook. 
Mechanically  he  took  the  chalk  and  tottered  up 
to  the  board.  The  class  bent  to  watch  the 
unique  sight  of  Selfrich  teaching  them  exact 
knowledge.  Uncle  Jim  regarded  him  with  a 
smile  in  which  sarcasm  and  contempt  struggled 
for  the  mastery.  Selfrich  began  a  diagram. 
His  memory  refused  even  the  barest  outlines  of 
the  one  he  so  successfully  stole.  His  arm  fell 
listlessly  at  his  side.  He  stopped  and  breathed 
hard. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  forgotten  the  theorem. 
Let  me  refresh  your  jaded  memory."  And  the 
Principal  repeated  slowly  and  with  urbanity  the 
dreaded  problem.  By  this  time  the  boys  began 


WHO     CHEATED?  I I/ 

to  suspect   the   game,   although   they  did   not 
understand  its  full  significance. 

Self  rich  did  not  move.  His  back  was  to  the 
class.  He  wriggled  his  legs  and  bent  his  head 
uneasily.  His  fingers  scribbled  aimlessly  on 
the  board. 

"  I  have  forgotten  it,  sir  ;  I  can't  do  it  now." 

The  lad  looked  up  with  his  old  "cheek,"  de- 
termined to  brazen  it  out.  He  started  to  sit 
down. 

"  Hold  !  "  thundered  the  Principal,  "  that  is 
impossible.  No  one  can  originate  such  a  dem- 
onstration and  forget  it  in  twenty-four  hours." 
Then  with  seeming  kindness,  "  You  are  con- 
fused, sir;  try  again." 

The  unhappy  culprit  did  not  stir.  His  eyes 
glanced  from  blackboard  to  Principal.  The 
chalk  fell  from  his  nerveless  fingers  and  clicked 
upon  the  bare  floor.  He  moved  again  towards 
a  seat.  He  could  not  imagine  what  was  coming. 
He  cast  a  venomous  glance  of  hatred  at  John 
Strong,  and  then  looked  to  the  floor. 

"  Stop,  sir ! "  said  the  Principal,  with  such 
force  and  distinctness  that  it  sounded  to  Self- 


Il8  WHO     CHEATED? 

rich's  confused  mind  like  a  pistol  shot.  "Stand 
where  you  are,  sir,  for  the  present.  Strong !  " 
continued  Dr.  Tyler,  turning  towards  John  with 
a  milder  expression,  "  go  to  the  blackboard  and 
demonstrate  to  the  class  this  theorem.  You 
were  the  only  other  scholar  who  solved  it 
correctly." 

John  started,  blushing  for  very  shyness  at 
being  made  so  prominent.  He  was  almost 
ashamed  of  himself  that  he  had  worked  it  out. 
He  feared  that  perhaps  he  might  fail  at  the  last 
moment. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I'll  try." 

The  boy  walked  with  tolerable  erectness  to- 
ward the  board.  At  first  his  diagram  grew 
slowly,  then  recovering  his  composure  he  drew 
the  figure  with  rapidity  and  precision.  When 
he  had  finished,  Uncle  Jim  said  curtly : 

"  Now  demonstrate,  sir  !  " 

That  Senior  class  will  never  forget  with  what 
wonderful  rapidity  John  demonstrated  his  orig- 
inal problem.  Not  a  boy  could  follow  its  in- 
tricacy. But  when  he  ended  triumphantly  that 
A  B  C  =  X  Y  Z  and  that  therefore  etc. 


WHO    CHEATED?  I IQ 

—  Q.  E.  D.,  a  murmur  of  admiration  arose  from 
the  boys,  and  a  few  feet  stamped  their  unquali- 
fied approval. 

John  turned  to  go  to  his  seat.  His  face  was 
flushed  with  the  elation  of  this  achievement. 
He  was  only  a  few  feet  from  Selfrich,  and  the 
class  had  full  opportunity  to  note  the  nobility 
and  the  modesty  of  the  one,  the  vulgarity  and 
self-conceit  of  the  other. 

"  Remain  where  you  are,  sir,"  said  Uncle  Jim 
to  John.  The  class  started.  The  Principal 
now  arose  slowly  from  his  seat  behind  his  desk. 
Walking  to  one  side  he  faced  the  two  boys 
diagonally,  and  the  class  at  the  same  time. 
Each  lad  watched  his  face  breathlessly.  The 
stillness  might  have  been  that  of  a  funeral. 
Uncle  Jim  regarded  the  two  before  him  and 
then  said,  turning  to  the  class  : 

"  Gentlemen,  the  two  students  before  you 
not  only  wrote  the  theorem  correctly  in  their 
papers  yesterday,  but  demonstrated  it  in  the 
same  way  by  the  very  same  letters  and  figures. 
One  demonstration  might  have  been  a  photo- 
graph of  the  other." 


I2O  WHO    CHEATED? 

"  He  looked  in  his  book  !  "  muttered  Selfrich. 

The  Principal  caught  the  words  and  turned 
on  the  unfortunate  lad  like  a  tiger. 

"  You  lie,  sir !  Let  me  not  hear  another 
syllable  from  you.  I  will  tell  you  the  facts. 
When  I  saw  Strong  bringing  his  book  in  I 
watched  it.  I  noticed  the  card  between  the 
leaves.  I  saw  you"  pointing  with  withering 
scorn  his  talon-like  fingers  at  Selfrich,  "take 
the  card  from  the  book.  I  saw  you  copy  it.  I 
saw  you  put  the  card  back.  I  saw  you  put  the 
book  under  Strong's  elbow.  I  know  that  you 
accused  that  honorable  gentleman  behind  his 
back,  and  before  your  classmates,  of  cheating. 
Sir  !  "  Dr.  Tyler  towered  above  Selfrich  who 
now  almost  fell  beneath  his  scorching  eyes, 
"sir,  apologize  to  your  superior  !  " 

Every  heart  in  that  room  bounded.  Boys  in 
other  classrooms  heard  that  roar  and  bent  more 
diligently  to  their  work.  Selfrich  did  not  move. 
He  bent  lower.  His  forehead,  cheeks,  ears  and 
neck  paled. 

"  I  command  you  to  apologize !  "  rang  out  the 
imperious  voice  again. 


WHO     CHEATED?  121 

"  Don't,  please,  sir,  don't." 

John  Strong  had  touched  Uncle  Jim's  arm. 
But  he  might  as  well  have  tried  to  stop  the 
Corliss  engine  in  its  revolution. 

Selfrich's  voice  now  quavered  a  few  undis- 
tinguishable  mutterings  in  which  the  word 
"  sorry  "  was  heard. 

"  Now  turn  and  apologize  to  the  class  !  " 

Selfrich  did  not  budge.  The  unhappy  lad 
shot  a  despairing  look  from  the  picture  of  the 
ruined  Coliseum  to  the  tortured  group  above 
the  door,  marked  "  Laocoonte."  With  a  spin 
Uncle  Jim  turned  him  about  face.  Selfrich 
suffered  horribly.  His  jaws  emitted  a  few 
words  and  then  fell. 

"  Now,  sir,"  continued  the  inexorable  voice, 
"  I  have  watched  you  long  enough.  You  are  a 
blot  upon  Phillips  Academy.  I  have  telegraphed 
to  your  father." 

At  that  moment  a  knock  was  heard  at  the 
door. 

"  Here  he  is,"  continued  Uncle  Jim. 

The  dramatic  tension  was  at  its  height. 
John  Strong  opened  the  door.  There  walked 


122  WHO     CHEATED  ? 

in  a  tall  man  with  a  face  of  such  refinement  and 
sadness  that  the  boys  heaved  a  sigh  of  pity  and 
of  sympathy. 

With  high-bred  courtesy  the  gentleman  bowed 
to  Uncle  Jim.  The  Principal  returned  the  salu- 
tation with  the  fine  indifference  of  a  Diogenes. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  my  son  has  disgraced  his 
honorable  name,"  said  the  father  distinctly  to 
the  Principal.  "Come,  rny  son." 

What  heart  could  resist  such  an  appeal  ? 
Selfrich  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbing  like  a 
baby,  the  broken-hearted  boy  followed  his 
broken-hearted  father  out.  Phillips  Academy 
knew  him  no  more. 

Of  course  his  classmates  did  the  handsome 
thing  by  John.  Uncle  Jim  was  just  in  his  own 
estimation.  The  class  meant  to  be.  But  John, 
greatly  moved,  evaded  the  boys,  and  hurried 
back  to  his  room  and  to  his  sick  friend. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A    WINTER    SPREE. 

IT  was  a  day  or  two  after  the  dramatic  expul- 
sion of  Selfrich.  John  was  walking  down 
to  the  evening  mail.  Doc.  Shelby  was  not  jeal- 
ous of  these  half  hour  tramps  down  the  long  hill 
to  the  brick  post-office  and  back,  after  supper. 
The  sick  lad  was  always  expecting  the  letter 
that  did  not  come.  As  for  John,  he  received 
but  one  letter  a  week ;  that  came  from  his 
mother  in  Conacoot.  He  had  not  been  down 
for  several  days,  and  this  was  the  day  that  the 
letter  was  due. 

John  walked  briskly  for  a  lame  boy.  The  cold, 
clear  air  exhilarated  him.  Andover  sidewalks 
being  systematically,  and  with  good  reasons, 
avoided  by  her  citizens  at  the  season  when  they 
are  most  needed,  John  walked  down  the  hill  in  the 
middle  of  the  street.  The  hardened  snow  cracked 
I23 


124  A    WINTER     SPREE. 

under  his  step.  It  was  the  evening  moon,  and 
sleighs  rang  their  rapid  way  past  him,  some 
polluting  the  purity  of  the  night  with  an  odor 
of  bad  tobacco,  while  now  and  then  a  sleighing 
party  diffused  in  its  wake  the  delicate  scent  of 
rose  or  mignonette.  •  This  gave  John  an  inde- 
scribable longing.  He  did  not  fret  because  he 
was  not  rich,  but  he  would  have  liked  to  be  able 
to  take  a  gay  ride  once  in  a  while.  And  some- 
how, when  he  looked  up  at  these  seal-skinned 
ladies,  enveloped  in  warm  robes  —  ladies  whose 
brilliant  eyes  stared  pityingly  perhaps  upon 
the  awkward,  scantily-dressed  plodder,  John's 
thoughts  involuntarily  reverted  to  the  snow- 
drift scene,  to  Selfrich  laughing  at  Doc.'s 
shivering  discomfiture  ;  then  they  rested  upon 
the  gracious  girl  who  handed  him  her  cape,  and 
whose  presence  seemed  to  the  single-hearted 
lad  like  a  delicate  perfume.  For  the  sake  of 
the  sister  John's  heart  began  to  warm  towards 
his  fallen  enemy. 

It  did  not  take  long,  but  a  little  longer  than 
it  would  have  taken  the  other  boys,  for  John  to 
reach  the  post-office.  He  found  his  letter  as  he 


A     WINTER     SPREE.  125 

had  expected  —  do  not  mother's  letters  always 
come  when  they  are  expected  ?  —  and,  being 
still  fresh,  he  started  down  toward  and  past 
the  town  library.  He  was  thinking  in  that 
lazy,  hazy  way  which  we  call  a  day-dream, 
when  he  was  awakened  by  the  jingling  of 
bells,  the  hollow  rattle  of  hoofs  upon  the 
packed  snow,  the  sliding  of  runners  and  a 
sudden  "Whoa,  there  —  sst !  "  The  sleigh 
stopped  a  little  beyond  him.  It  was  a  large 
one.  It  had  three  seats,  and  six  Seniors  occu- 
pied them.  John  had  not  overheard  the  brief 
discussion  aroused  in  the  sleigh  by  the  sight  of 
him. 

"Look  ahead!  There's  Strong!  See  him 
limp  !  Yes,  it's  Strong  !  " 

"  He'll  tell  of  us,  sure  pop  !  " 

"No,  he  won't."  Sunshine  said  this.  "He 
isn't  that  mean,  I  know." 

"  Let's  take  him  with  us  so  he  can't,"  sug- 
gested one  of  the  fellows.  "  What  fun  to  take 
him  along  ! " 

"  He  won't  come,"  answered  the  first  voice. 
"  I  know  him.  Let's  tell  him  we're  out  for  a 


126  A     WINTER    SPREE. 

short  ride,  and  have  got  permission.  That'll 
fetch  him,  I'll  bet." 

It  was  too  late  to  plot  further. 

"  Halloo,  Strong  !  Is  that  you  ?  Jump  in, 
and  take  a  ride ! "  The  call  came  cheerily. 
John  limped  along  and  overtook  the  crowd. 
The  sky  was  cloudless.  The  moon  was  so 
bright  that  she  seemed  to  be  conscious  of  it 
and  proud  of  it.  Here  and  there  a  star  was 
seen,  clear-cut  and  blushing  like  a  girl  watched 
through  an  opera-glass.  The  atmosphere  was 
crystal.  It  was  an  evening  in  a  thousand.  The 
impatient  horses  pawed  the  snow  and  tossed 
their  heads  with  an  aristocratic  gesture,  as  if 
they  had  never  seen  the  stalls  of  a  livery  stable. 
The  sleigh-bells  tinkled  merrily. 

John  flushed  at  the  courteous  invitation.  He 
was  not  one  of  the  kind  of  boys  who  receive 
such  attentions  from  classmates.  The  novelty 
touched  him.  It  made  his  heart  beat  fast. 
But,  as  he  looked  again  at  the  party,  he  noticed 
that  the  two  boys  on  the  front  seat  were  Self- 
rich's  most  intimate  friends. 

He  felt  a  recoil  at  this  discovery.     Then,  it 


A     WINTER     SPREE.  I2/ 

was  not  his  crowd.  These  were  the  rich,  the 
careless,  one  might  say  the  "fast"  fellows. 
Why  should  they  ask  him  ?  John  heaved  a 
sigh  of  disappointment. 

"  I'm  sorry,  but  I  must  go  back  soon." 

"  But  we'll  take  you  back.  You're  not  afraid 
of  us  ? "  John  stood  irresolute.  Where  was 
the  harm  ?  Surely  none. 

"  It  sha'n't  cost  you  a  cent,"  said  another  fel- 
low, with  a  perceptible  sneer.  This  stung  the 
poor  boy  bitterly. 

"  Oh  !  come  along.  I'll  see  that  you  get  home 
all  right."  Sunshine  spoke  carelessly,  yet  with 
a  shade  of  real  kindliness  in  his  voice.  He  was 
the  most  respectable  boy  in  the  sleigh.  John 
was  almost  persuaded. 

"  We've  got  permission  from  Uncle  Jim. 
We'll  be  back  by  the  first  study  bell." 

The  party  in  the  sleigh  preserved  an  uncom- 
fortable silence  at  this  audacious  lie  from  the 
front  seat.  The  horses  began  to  be  restless  in 
the  cutting  cold.  John  took  a  step  toward  the 
sleigh.  Evidently  the  boys  wanted  him  to  go. 
He  wondered  why.  How  could  John  suspect 


128  A    WINTER    SPREE. 

them  ?  And  of  what  ?  He  slowly  climbed  into 
the  back  seat  beside  Sunshine  ;  and  the  party, 
with  a  cautious  look  in  all  directions,  that  to  a 
trained  observer  would  have  indicated  a  minus 
quantity  of  official  permission,  started  ahead, 
down  the  hill,  over  the  railroad  bridge,  on  the 
road  to  the  city  of  Lawrence. 

John  yielded  to  the  fascination  of  his  position. 
It  was  the  first  sleigh-ride  he  had  taken  that 
year.  The  road  was  in  rare  condition,  and  the 
horses  went  at  a  rattling  pace.  At  first,  John 
sat  silently.  He  was  drinking  in  vigor  and  life. 
He  seemed  entranced.  John  was  thoroughly 
happy.  He  forgot  his  poverty,  his  lameness, 
his  struggles,  everything  in  the  physical  exuber- 
ance of  the  moment.  It  does  not  take  much  to 
confer  happiness  upon  a  poor  boy.  A  ride  will 
often  give  more  lasting  enjoyment  than  a  five- 
dollar  bill ;  an  invitation  to  join  a  home  circle  is  a 
pleasanter  memory  than  a  cast-off  coat.  But 
suddenly  John  roused  himself  with  a  start. 
His  eyes  that  had  been  open  without  perceiving, 
now  saw.  The  moon  was  higher  on  his  right. 
They  had  not  turned.  They  were  going  away 


A    WINTER    SPREE.  I2Q 

from  Andover.  It  must  have  been  nearly  half- 
past  seven.  John  began  to  grow  very  uncom- 
fortable. As  yet,  he  suspected  no  deceit.  He 
thought  that  the  boys  were  very  careless.  Yet 
he  could  not  blame  them  much  —  the  night  was 
so  fine.  He  was  about  to  speak,  when  a  puff  of 
smoke  from  a  cigarette  blew  into  his  face  and 
almost  choked  him.  One  can  hardly  expect  a 
fastidious  fellow  to  be  otherwise  than  nauseated 
with  the  vile  breath  of  a  cigarette.  There  is  no 
more  disagreeable  polluter  of  God's  pure  air 
than  this  sickly  combination  of  stale  tobacco  and 
medicated  paper.  As  John  turned  his  face  to 
breathe,  he  heard  a  whisper  from  the  front 
seat. 

The  words  cannot  be  repeated  upon  these 
pages.  John  caught  them  imperfectly  and 
confusedly.  He  was  as  innocent  as  any  well- 
brought-up  boy  should  be.  This  clean  lad  sim- 
ply did  not  understand  what  he  overheard,  but 
it  set  him  to  thinking  ;  and  thought  stimulated 
distrust  of  his  companions.  Perhaps  these  fellows 
were  going  to  make  a  call  or  so,  and  their  game 
was  to  take  him  along,  too.  That  they  were  not 


I3O  A     WINTER    SPREE. 

going  to  turn  back  soon,  did  not  occur  to  him. 
"Very  probably,"  he  thought,  "they  are  taking 
me  a  long  way  round  to  fool  me."  He  was  just 
going  to  speak  for  the  second  time,  when  the 
driver  said  distinctly  to  his  companion  : 

"  Say,  I'm  not  going  to  treat  to-night.  Some 
other  chap's  got  to.  You'd  better  go  it  easy 
this  time.  You  lose  your  head  too  quick."  The 
sleigh  was  speeding  now  on  the  South  Lawrence 
road.  John  felt  that  it  was  time  to  say  some- 
thing. 

"  Look  here,  fellows  !  Aren't  you  ready  to 
turn  around  ?  It's  later  than  you  think." 

"  That's  all  right,  Strong,"  said  one,  in  as  re- 
assuring a  tone  as  he  could  muster.  "We'll 
turn  around  soon." 

John  relapsed  into  silence  again,  and  occupied 
himself  in  evading  the  noxious  smoke  that  would 
blow  in  his  face.  He  was  now  thoroughly  un- 
happy. How  would  Doc.  Shelby  stand  this  long 
neglect  ?  Besides,  Uncle  Jim's  furnace  must  be 
attended  to.  John's  routine  was  to  shake  the 
furnace  down  before  supper,  put  on  the  coal 
and  shut  it  up  at  nine  o'clock. 


A    WINTER    SPREE.  13! 

The  horses  were  now  urged  to  their  topmost 
speed.  Every  minute  bore  the  sleigh  a  fifth  of 
a  mile  further  from  Latin  Commons.  Every 
minute  added  to  John's  desperation.  Yet  he 
was  too  modest  to  insist.  He  was  still  too 
trustful  to  suspect  the  crowd  of  concerted  and 
outrageous  lying. 

"I  guess  we're  safe  to-night,"  hazarded  one 
with  an  exultant  laugh.  Sunshine  had  not  as 
yet  said  a  word.  He  smoked  a  good  cigar,  and 
John  mentally  thanked  him  for  that  slight  con- 
sideration. Pretty  soon  the  first  two  seats 
broke  into  a  song.  A  feeling  of  liberty  which 
may  be  catalogued  by  the  word  license  swept 
like  a  tide  over  them.  The  thousand  eyes  of 
Lawrence  now  blinked  before  the  party.  "  We 
won't  go  home  till  morning !  "  sang  the  boys 
with  spiteful  gusto.  John  waited  until  the 
mutilation  of  this  good  old  song  had  been 
accomplished,  and  then  firmly  asked  : 

"How  soon  are  you  fellows  going  to  turn 
back  ? " 

"  We  won't  go  home  till  morning  !  "  came  the 
mocking  answer. 


132  A     WINTER     SPREE. 

"  I  will  know  when  you  are  going  to  turn 
back."  John  spoke  at  white  heat.  Their  game 
had  lasted  too  long  for  him. 

"  You  will,  will  you  ? "  The  front  seat  now 
threw  off  its  mask.  "We're  not  going  back 
until  we're  ready.  What'll  you  take  when  we 
get  to  Lawrence  ?" 

"  One  beer,"  answered  another,  with  a  jeer. 

Now,  at  last,  John  Strong  saw  the  trap  into 
which  he  had  so  easily  stepped. 

"Whip  up  the  steeds!  We've  got  him  this 
time  !  "  yelled  the  second  seat  exultingly. 

They  had  now  come  to  the  outskirts  of  South 
Lawrence.  John  was  speechless  for  a  moment 
with  rage  and  mortification.  He  had  heard 
vague  rumors  of  Lawrence  dissipations.  Some 
of  the  boys  in  the  sleigh  had  been  pointed  out 
to  him  as  fast  fellows.  But  how  much  did  he 
know  of  what  that  meant  ?  Almost  as  little, 
still,  as  he  had  in  his  mother's  country  home. 
How  should  he  guess  that  these,  his  classmates, 
in  the  English  department,  were  avenging  them- 
selves on  him  for  the  expulsion  of  Self  rich  ? 
How  should  he  know  that  this  sleigh  was  bound 


A     WINTER     SPREE.  133 

for  a  black  spree  ?  Surely,  it  was  only  a  madcap 
lark  ?  How  could  it  be  anything  worse  ? 

"  You  stop  this  sleigh  !  "  It  seemed  to  John 
that  his  body  would  burst  to  pieces  with 
indignation. 

His  chin  quivered.  His  hands  were  clinched, 
and  cold  shiverings  chased  each  other  up  and 
down  his  spinal  cord.  Was  it  coming  to  a 
fight  —  or  what  ? 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.     Hold  him,  fellows  ! " 

This  was  too  much  for  John.  He  arose  from 
his  seat ;  but  his  companion  pulled  him  back. 
It  was  evident  that  the  crisis  of  that  sleigh-ride 
had  come. 

There  may  be  some  readers  who  will  criticise 
this  scene  as  being  exaggerated  beyond  the  pos- 
sibility of  fact.  But  none  will  do  so  who  are 
intimate  with  the  life  of  a  great  fitting  school. 
There  the  instinctive  uprightness  of  one  boy 
will  arouse  the  combatativeness  of  another,  and 
the  looseness  of  a  few,  the  scorn  of  the  ma- 
jority. There  hundreds  of  homes  furnish  hun- 
dreds of  characters.  Such  an  incident  as  we 
are  recording  is  no  peculiarity  of  Andover, 


134  A     WINTER     SPREE. 

which  holds  herself  high  in  the  moral  scale  of 
important  schools. 

John  Strong  was  for  the  first  and  only  time 
in  his  Andover  career,  brought  face  to  face  with 
the  grosser  features  in  that  element  that  goes 
to  make  up  the  dark  statistics  of  class  history. 
Remove  the  restraint  of  home  obedience,  and  it 
takes  good  training  and  good  manliness,  espe- 
cially when  one's  parents  are  rich,  not  to  give 
in  to  the  temptation  of  dressing  loudly,  swagger- 
ing ridiculously,  running  up  questionable  bills 
recklessly,  and  of  imitating  in  speech  and  man- 
ners the  vices  of  men.  There  is  no  more  con- 
temptible sight  than  a  boy  aping  the  dissipa- 
tions of  a  society  club-man.  These  brilliantly- 
plumaged  birds  are  found  in  every  class,  in  every 
large  fitting  school  and  college.  These  were 
the  madcaps  of  the  Senior  class,  these  boys  in 
the  sleigh.  Andover  was  not  proud  of  them. 
Had  Uncle  Jim  only  caught  them  on  the  road, 
the  last  moon  had  risen  for  them  in  that  pure 
village. 

But  John's  fight  was  not  a  moral  one.  What 
had  he  to  do  with  them  ?  He  wanted  to  get 


A     WINTER     SPREE.  135 

home,  finish  his  work,  nurse  Doc.,  study  his 
lessons,  and  go  to  bed.  He  was  not  tempted 
by  a  Lawrence  spree.  What  was  the  fun  in 
skulking  to  besmirch  one's  life  ?  These  boys 
did  not  realize  his  position.  It  was  a  careless 
frolic  for  them,  but  they  had  found  their  match 
in  their  new  classmate. 

"I  insist,"  blazed  John,  "you  shall  let  me 
out !  It  is  my  right.  I  insist  upon  my  right." 

"  Right  ?  "  sneered  the  driver  from  the  front 
seat  ;  but  he  checked  his  horses  to  a  slower 
gait.  "  What  rights  have  you  here  ?  You 
don't  pay  for  this  team  !  " 

"  At  least,"  answered  John,  firmly  and  plainly 
—  this  was  his  last  resort  —  "I  have  the  right 
to  report  this  sleigh-ride.  I  have  never  done 
such  a  thing,  but  I  might  if  you  forced  me  to  it." 
His  tone  took  on  a  resolute  sternness.  The 
boys  had  gone  too  far.  and  they  knew  it.  The 
two  front  seats  whispered  together.  The  horses 
were  now  walking.  John  arose  again. 

"Look  here,  Strong,"  came  the  reluctant  sug- 
gestion, "  if  you  will  keep  mum,  we'll  put  you 
down  at  the  South  Lawrence  Station.  There'll 


136  A     WINTER    SPREE. 

be  a  train  down  at  nine  or  so.  Pete  will  take 
you  up  to  your  room.  Tell  him  to  hang  it  up 
on  me.'' 

The  sleigh  was  only  a  little  distance  from  the 
station.  The  clocks  now  struck  eight  sober 
strokes  from  the  towers  in  the  city.  But  John 
had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  go  another  step 
with  a  crowd  he  could  neither  respect  nor  trust. 
He  answered  authoritatively : 

"  You  either  turn  right  back  home,  or  stop 
this  sleigh  immediately.  I  will  get  out  here  and 
walk  back." 

"But  you  can't  walk!"  sneered  one  of  the 
fellows. 

"  Stop  this  sleigh  — or"  —  The  sleigh  stopped. 
Sunshine  helped  the  lame  boy  out. 

John  stood  still  on  the  frozen  snow,  facing 
the  uncomfortable  crowd.  His  features  were 
blanched  with  emotion  and  gleaming  in  the 
white  moonlight.  The  other  fellows  wondered 
dully  what  it  was  he  looked  like,  but  Sunshine 
thought  of  Sir  Galahad  at  the  court  of  the  great 
king. 

"  Look   here,  Strong,  you  won't  peach,  will 


A     WINTER    SPREE. 


you?  The  train  will  take  you  back  all  right." 
So  said  one  of  Selfrich's  cronies.  It  did  not 
occur  to  the  "well-off"  boy  that  John  had  not 
in  his  pocket  ten  cents  with  which  to  pay  the 
railroad  fare  to  Andover. 

"  No,"  answered  John  proudly  ;  "  no,  I  don't 
tell  tales  ;  but  I  wish  you  fellows  would  go  back. 
I  don't  think  you'd  be  sorry." 

But  this  jarred  on  the  wrong  nerve.  A  fan- 
cied manhood  was  at  stake.  Only  "softies" 
give  up. 

"  Whoop  her  up  !  "  cried  the  driver  impa- 
tiently. John  turned  and  set  his  face  toward 
home.  How  could  he,  who  had  never  walked 
more  than  two  miles,  walk  those  slippery  four  ? 

The  boys  could  not  help  looking  after  him, 
try  as  hard  as  they  might.  As  he  limped  away, 
slowly,  putting  a  widening  line  of  light  and  snow 
between  himself  and  them,  he  had  a  strange 
look.  If  the  fellows  had  been  reading  boys,  they 
would  have  thought  of  the  boy-angel  in  Charles 
Lamb's  beautiful  story,  "who  goeth  lame  and 
lovely." 

Now  to  Sunshine  this  scene  meant  something: 


138  A    WINTER    SPREE. 

more  than  it  did  to  his  companions.  To  him 
there  had  come  the  rapid  fire  of  a  new  conflict. 
He  was  not  fast  —  only  too  fond  of  fun.  This 
was  his  first  spree  of  the  kind.  John's  stand 
was  a  revelation  of  will  to  him.  He  wished 
that  he  had  been  as  firm  himself.  He  was 
thoroughly  ashamed  of  his  companions  —  he 
was  manly  enough  for  that  —  but  like  most 
boys,  he  was  too  cowardly  to  stand  up  for  the 
unpopular.  He  had  not  come  to  the  aid  of  his 
lame  classmate.  He  did  not  abuse  him,  but  he 
had  kept  silent.  But  now  an  opportunity  urged 
him.  His  chivalry  could  not  allow  John  to  go 
home  alone.  How  the  fellow  looked  in  the 
moonlight,  limping  off,  solitary  and  sad!  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  The  horses  dashed  ahead. 
To  wait,  was  to  lose  the  chance.  With  a  great 
leap,  the  athlete  bounded  from  the  sleigh  to 
the  frozen  ground.  He  slipped  and  fell ;  but 
jumped  lightly  to  his  feet  again.  He  was  not 
hurt,  only  bruised  a  little.  John  hurried  back 
to  him.  The  sleigh  stopped. 

"  What's    the    matter,    Sunshine  ?      Aren't 
you  —  ?" 


A     WINTER     SPREE.  139 

"  I'm  going  home  with  Strong,"  interrupted 
Sunshine  brusquely. 

"  But  we  got  up  the  party  for  you.  We're 
going  to  show  you  the  sights  to-night." 

The  driver  spoke  moodily,  with  a  coarse  allu- 
sion, and  an  oath.  Sunshine's  answer  came 
back  now  manfully  enough  : 

"  I've  seen  enough  for  one  night.  I  won't 
go.  I'll  never  go  with  you.  You  can  go  alone. 
Come  along,  Strong  !  We'll  go  back." 

The  two  turned  their  backs  abruptly  upon 
the  party,  and  struck  directly  homeward.  The 
sleigh  started,  stopped.  A  few  jeers  and  taunts 
were  hurled  out  in  a  bravado  tone.  Then  the 
sleigh  dashed  ahead  —  who  knew  where  ? 

"  But  you  needn't  have  done  it  for  me,  Sun- 
shine," said  John,  after  the  jingle  had  died  away. 

"  Look  here,  old  fellow,  don't  say  another 
word  !  I  did  it  for  myself." 

The  two  boys  walked  as  briskly  as  John  could 
for  a  short  distance.  Neither  spoke.  They 
passed  a  lighted  house  with  a  barn  behind  it. 
An  old  man  was  going  to  the  barn  with  a  pail 
of  something. 


I4O  A     WINTER     SPREE. 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  walk  all  the  way  home. 
What  shall  we  do  ?  "  asked  John  sadly. 

"You  just  stay  here  a  minute,"  answered 
Sunshine,  "  I've  got  an  idea  and  plenty  of  cash 
in  my  pocket.  I'll  get  the  old  man  here  to 
hitch  up  and  take  us  back.  He'll  be  glad  to 
make  a  couple  of  dollars,  and  we'll  get  back  by 
nine." 

It  was  said  and  done.  The  old  gentleman 
had  an  old  horse  and  an  old  carry-all  on  runners, 
and  Sunshine  had  some  new  bills.  The  boys 
clambered  into  the  carry-all,  and  sat  silently. 
Both  were  busy  with  their  own  thoughts.  John 
hoped  to  get  back  in  time  for  Uncle  Jim's 
furnace  and  to  save  Doc.  a  bad  night ;  Sun- 
shine knew  that  he  would  be  laughed  at  next 
day.  But  he  could  stand  that ;  he  was  popular. 
He  was  glad  that  it  was  as  it  was. 

As  the  horse  groaned  up  the  beginning  of 
the  long  hill  from  Frye  Village,  a  thundering 
sound  was  heard  behind.  The  old  man's  team 
turned  timidly  to  one  side,  and  the  two  boys 
crouched  deep  in  the  back  seat  out  of  sight,  as 
a  familiar  sleigh  with  five  boys  and  two  dashing 


A    WINTER    SPREE.  14! 

horses  rattled  past.  Was  it  conscience,  or  ex- 
ample, that  drove  this  reckless  crowd  back  so 
soon  ? 

"  Perhaps  they'll  take  ye  the  rest  of  the  way," 
suggested  the  weary  old  man,  not  relishing  a 
longer  ride  with  his  stupid  party. 

"  No,  they  won't.  You  can't  catch  them," 
said  Sunshine.  "  You  take  us  to  the  top  of 
Andover  Hill  as  I  bargained,  and  I'll  pay." 

The  driver  grumbled  into  acquiescing  silence 
and  revenged  himself  by  coughing  and  muttering 
and  walking  his  horse  all  the  rest  of  the  way. 

When  they  got  out  opposite  the  brick  Acad- 
emy, at  the  meeting  of  the  two  streets,  it  was 
not  yet  nine  o'clock.  After  the  old  man  and 
his  vehicle  had  creaked  away  towards  Lawrence, 
Sunshine  drew  near  John  to  say  good-night. 

"John  Strong,"  he  said  with  evident  emotion, 
"  you're  as  innocent  as  a  girl.  Do  you  know 
what  you  got  me  out  of  ?  If  you  don't,  I  won't 
tell  you.  Good-night.  You're  a  good  fellow, 
and  I'll  say  so  to  anybody.  Good-night." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    LEVEE. 

THE  air  in  the  Senior  class  had  been  con- 
siderably purified  by  the  summary  dis- 
missal of  Selfrich.  John  Strong  had  become 
prominent  and  popular,  as  much  for  his  manly 
modesty  as  for  his  ability.  This  was  especially 
true  among  the  Middle  class  men,  when  they 
found  out  that  Shelby  was  being  nursed  by  a 
Senior,  and  that  the  Senior  was  having  a  hard 
time  of  it.  John  Strong  was  really  ignorant 
of  the  extent  to  which  he  was  discussed.  He 
was  too  busy  to  think  of  himself.  Had  it  not 
been  for  Father  Lambkin  he  would  have  given 
out.  To  keep  his  rank,  nurse  Doc.,  and  earn  his 
living,  was  almost  too  much  for  the  lame  Senior. 
Yet  he  stood  to  his  duty  uncomplainingly. 

The  long  winter  tern!,  as  every  one  knows, 
determines   the   final    rank   of   the   graduating 
142 


THE     LEVEE.  143 

class.  The  stand  one  loses  in  this  term  can 
never  be  made  up  in  the  spring.  What  with 
his  first-division  Latin,  and  his  Iliad,  his  Greek 
and  Latin  composition  —  which  every  Senior 
who  is  not  a  genius  or  a  fool  dreads  more  than 
he  would  a  letter  home  from  Uncle  Jim  —  what 
with  geometry  and  "trig.,"  physics,  essays  and 
elocution,  term  examinations  and  reviews,  life 
was  a  rub  to  John.  It  is  a  high  excellence  of 
Phillips  that  it  makes  its  students  work  whether 
they  will  or  no.  Lambkin  fairly  dragged  Strong 
by  force  to  the  gymnasium  once  a  day  and  made 
him  pitch.  This  was  his  only  rest  and  amuse- 
ment. And  John  put  his  whole  soul  into  this 
exercise,  realizing  that  upon  it  depended  his 
lease  of  courage  as  well  as  of  strength. 

It  became  quite  a  sight  in  the  old  Gym.  to  see 
John  play  ball.  The  awkwardness  attendant 
upon  his  necessary  lameness,  due  to  the  short- 
ness of  his  left  leg,  was  overlooked  by  the 
spectators  and  often  forgotten  by  John  himself. 
Many  of  the  movements  that  at  first  had  given 
him  excruciating  pain  soon  became  bearable 
and  finally  exhilarating. 


144  THE     LEVEE. 

There  he  stood  at  the  upper  end  of  the  long 
alley ;  Lambkin  faced  him  below.  The  cob- 
webbed,  grated  windows  shed  a  cold  gleam 
upon  John's  flushed  face  and  his  sparkling  eyes, 
which  at  those  times  lighted  with  more  than 
ordinary  intentness  and  enthusiasm.  There  he 
stood  in  his  gray  flannel  shirt  manfully  sup- 
pressing any  signs  of  those  painful  twitches 
that  darted  through  his  body  as  he  played. 
There  he  pitched,  feeling  that  with  every  agony 
a  cord  was  broken  that  bound  him  to  the  physi- 
cal inertness  he  had  endured  since  memory  re- 
corded a  bedridden  childhood.  This  exercise 
seemed  the  peculiar  remedy  adapted  to  his  case, 
and  the  brave  boy  was  literally  battling  for  the 
vigor  of  life  against  what  doctors  had  pro- 
nounced a  hopeless  spine.  Which  one  of  you 
boys,  who  jumps  and  runs  without  a  thought, 
can  understand  this  desperate  struggle  to  over- 
come a  desperate  disease  and  to  attain  the  spring 
of  life  ?  While  most  of  the  fellows  thought 
John  only  pitched  to  pitch,  Lambkin  under- 
stood that  it  was  a  duel  between  the  base-ball 
and  the  crutch.  The  skill  developed  came  as  a 


THE     LEVEE.  145 

cheery  attendant  upon  this  heroic  treatment, 
and  an  astonishing  in-curve  that  made  the  boys 
whistle,  meant  to  John  the  resurrection  of  so 
much  dead  tissue  into  natural  activity.  This 
was  not  athletics  for  fun  or  fame.  It  was  the 
battle  for  health. 

One  thing  puzzled  John  considerably  after 
Selfrich  went.  It  was  the  young  lady's  cape. 
There  it  lay  in  his  room,  done  up  in  brown 
paper  with  a  string.  The  very  knot  of  the 
string  and  the  color  of  the  wrapper  seemed  to 
reproach  him.  The  thermometer  was,  as  usual, 
below,  and  naturally  the  owner  might  want  her 
furs.  The  very  fact  of  her  being  Selfrich's 
sister  made  it  doubtful  whether  it  were  proper  for 
him  to  call.  His  difficulty  was  solved  in  this  wise. 

Three  days  after  she  had  given  it  to  him,  he 
had  plucked  up  his  courage,  had  taken  the 
bundle  and  had  trudged  along  down  School 
Street  to  the  enchanted  grounds.  He  paused 
before  the  fence  that  protected  from  the  mascu- 
line world  the  sacred  inclosure  of  Abbot  Fe- 
male Seminary,  better  known  to  all  Andover 


146  THE     LEVEE. 

as  the  "  Fern.  Sem."  Being  somewhat  puzzled 
which  of  the  four  buildings  to  choose,  he  natu- 
rally took  to  the  nearest,  a  small  brown  cottage. 
The  bolts  of  paradise  were  shot,  and  the  door 
opened,  perhaps,  an  inch  and  a  quarter.  The 
person  on  the  other  side  was  no  angel,  but  a 
servant  who  had  come  from  the  West  and  had 
been  at  the  institution  only  long  enough  to  get 
into  the  spirit  of  the  place. 

"Is  Miss  Selfrich  in  ?"  stammered  John,  per- 
spiring profusely.  This  modern  Miss  Peter 
yielded  him  not  a  hair's  breadth  of  the  door. 
She  regarded  him  critically  with  one  large  dis- 
dainful eye  and  ejaculated:  "Be  you  a  minister  ?" 

"No." 

"  Be  you  a  missionary  ? " 

"N-no." 

"  Be  you  a  theologue  ?  " 

"N-n-no." 

"  Well  !     Be  you  anything  to  her  ?  " 

"N-n-n-no!"  with  a  mournful  shake  of  the 
head. 

"Then  you  can't  see  her;"  and  the  door  was 
slammed  in  his  despairing  face. 


THE     LEVEE.  147 

The  question  was  what  to  do  next.  He  didn't 
like  to  mention  his  failure  to  Lambkin.  He 
thought  seriously  of  applying  to  Uncle  Jim  for 
advice,  but  feared  he  knew  not  what.  Doc. 
was  too  sick  to  be  consulted.  Some  Gordian 
knots  are  cut  by  war,  some  by  peace,  some  by 
marriage  and  some  by  death.  This  one  was 
shattered  by  a  dog. 

John  Calvin  was  no  ordinary  dog.  Leaving 
out  of  the  question  the  necessary  education  that 
must  accrue  from  attendance  upon  a  variety  of 
dog-matic  lecture  courses,  he  had  a  large  bump 
of  intelligence  and  responsibility  peculiarly  his 
own.  John  Calvin,  like  some  poets,  was  born 
great  ;  and  circumstance  thrust  additional  no- 
toriety upon  him.  He  had  a  number  of  tricks 
which  he  was  altogether  too  ready  to  perform. 

Now  the  time  had  come  for  John  Calvin  to 
distinguish  himself  in  Andover.  His  method 
of  doing  so  has  made  him  historic  in  that  town. 
Fully  to  explain  the  circumstance  we  should  say 
that  John  Calvin  was  in  the  habit  of  taking 
upon  his  shoulders  most  of  his  master's  social 
obligations.  To  call  upon  all  of  Mr.  Mansfield's 


148  THE     LEVEE. 

young  lady  friends  Calvin  considered  the  first 
of  canine  duties.  In  Roger's  absence  he  paid 
visits  of  his  own  accord  and  alone,  with  pains- 
taking and  embarrassing  regularity.  Now  this 
very  social  theologue,  Mr.  Mansfield,  frequently 
called  upon  four  or  five  different  young  ladies 
in  the  same  evening.  Calvin,  being  a  great 
beau,  always  came  in  for  his  full  share  of  the 
parlor  conversations.  The  town  recalls  with 
amusement  that  during  the  last  vacation  Calvin 
began  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  worked  up  to 
the  Professor's  quarters  without  omitting  one 
of  his  master's  young  lady  acquaintances.  He 
would  make  on  the  average  eight  calls  a  day, 
and  he  scratched  and  howled  at  the  doors  of 
Fem.  Sems.  and  Professors  alike  until  they  were 
forced  for  very  shame  to  let  him  in. 

While  Strong  was  contemplating  the  bundle 
containing  that  fur  cape,  a  scratching  was  heard 
at  the  door,  accompanied  by  a  short,  sharp,  im- 
patient yelp.  Doc.'s  face  brightened  up.  He 
was  unutterably  weary  of  lying  there.  He  had 
begun  to  tire  of  the  Samaritan  Society,  a  com- 
mittee of  whose  members  had,  in  the  most  deli- 


THE    LEVEE.  151 

cate  and  unobtrusive  manner,  paid  him  visits  at 
the  rate  of  one  a  day.  Andover  is  a  very 
charitable  place,  and  her  ladies  do  not  neglect 
suffering  students.  There  is  not,  perhaps,  a 
fitting-school  to  be  found,  where  a  sick  boy  will 
receive  more  attention  from  the  townspeople. 

Calvin  bounced  in  with  his  usual  exuberance. 
He  hopped  upon  Doc.'s  bed  and  licked  his  face 
and  bespattered  the  clean  sheets.  John  Strong 
dragged  him  down.  At  this  Calvin  gave  him  a 
reproachful  look,  but  continued  to  lap  Doc.'s 
hand  as  it  hung  over  the  side. 

Then  Calvin  made  a  tour  of  inspection  to  see 
if  everything  were  natural.  When  he  came  to 
the  brown  paper  package  he  stopped  and  gave 
it  an  interrogative  sniff.  He  walked  away 
sedately,  but  soon  returned  and  eyed  it  with 
suspicion.  John  Strong,  who  had  greeted  Cal- 
vin courteously,  was  studying  with  his  back  to 
the  scene.  Doc.  watched  the  dog  with  absorb- 
ing interest.  Pretty  soon  Calvin  hunted  up  a 
ball  and  laid  it  first  at  John's  feet  to  tempt 
him.  John  continued  absorbed.  Then  the  pa- 
tient guest  laid  the  ball  upon  John's  lap,  poking 


152  THE     LEVEE. 

the  book  away  with  his  wet  nose.  John  put 
the  ball  down  and  continued  his  work.  Now 
Calvin  felt  abused  and  became  impatient.  Tak- 
ing the  ball  in  his  mouth  he  bent  down  upon 
his  fore  haunches  and  growled  and  danced  about 
in  his  most  playfully  enticing  form. 

John  studied  on. 

Calvin  laid  down  the  ball.  Cocking  his  ears 
up  and  with  a  sidewise  winking  motion  of  the 
head  he  walked  around  John,  regarding  him 
with  interest.  He  lay  down  at  the  young  man's 
feet  for  a  moment,  licked  his  boots  without  at- 
tracting attention,  and  then  finally  gave  it  up. 
He  now  turned  and  looked  for  other  game. 

In  an  unlucky  moment  Calvin  rediscovered 
the  brown  paper  parcel.  It  did  not  take  long  to 
poke  it  with  his  nose  from  the  chair  on  to  the 
floor.  At  the  fall  Calvin  stopped  and  looked  at 
John  for  instructions.  None  came.  The  young 
man  was  still  oblivious.  John  Calvin,  thinking 
it  all  right,  now  tore  the  paper  in  shreds  and 
when  he  came  upon  the  fur  his  joy  knew  no 
bounds.  With  a  sound  like  a  snort,  a  gurgle 
and  a  bark  combined,  he  threw  the  cape  in  the 


THE     LEVEE.  153 

air,  raised  himself  up  on  his  hind  legs  and 
caught  it  in  its  downward  career.  Calvin 
played  with  the  cape  like  a  cat,  making  all  the 
noises  and  motions  that  owners  of  a  dog  know 
well.  He  worried  it,  tossed  it,  dragged  it, 
dropped  it,  and  finally  in  his  overflow  of  joy 
gave  a  resonant  bark.  Doc.  could  no  longer 
control  himself ;  he  laughed  as  loudly  as  his 
weakness  permitted.  Then  John  Strong  awoke 
from  his  study  and  surveyed  the  ruin. 

"  Come  here,  sir  !  Drop  it  !  DROP  IT  !  "  he 
cried  in  horror.  Calvin,  obeying  none  but  his 
master,  and  considering  this  an  invitation  to 
play  tag  which  indeed  had  come  better  late  than 
never,  now  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  chase. 
He  approached  the  lad  and  then  whisked  away 
with  a  bark  of  ecstasy.  In  vain  John  yelled ; 
Calvin  only  dodged  the  quicker  and  held  the 
tighter  to  his  prize.  The  chase  became  excit- 
ing. Now  the  dog  shot  under  the  bed.  Now 
he  jumped  over.  Crash  went  a  lamp  ;  down 
came  a  book-case.  The  room  rocked  and  the 
house  reverberated. 

"  Shut    up,  down   there  ! "  yelled   a   student 


1 54  THE     LEVEE. 

from  above,  vigorously  stamping  his  feet  upon 
the  floor. 

At  last  John  had  cornered  the  dog.  He  bent 
to  grasp  the  precious  cape,  when  Calvin  with  a 
growl  and  a  spring  cleared  him,  upsetting  the 
youth  with  a  mighty  crash  upon  the  floor.  Cal- 
vin fairly  danced  with  orthodox  glee  ;  bits  of  fur 
were  seen  frothing  at  his  mouth.  At  the  last 
fall  the  door  opened  impetuously.  A  visitor  be- 
gan speaking,  but  was  cut  short  by  Calvin's 
dashing  out.  The  dog  felled  the  young  tutor 
at  the  door  with  his  first  bound  and  disappeared. 

To  dash  on  one's  hat  in  order  to  follow  the 
thief  was  the  work  of  a  moment.  When  John 
turned  he  observed  a  strange  pallor  on  Doc.'s 
face.  The  excitement  had  proved  too  much  for 
the  sick  boy.  Doc.  had  fainted. 

While  John  was  restraining  his  impatience 
as  best  he  could,  and  with  the  tutor's  help  was 
restoring  the  sick  lad,  Calvin  was  seen  to  fly 
past  the  school  building.  Snowballs  followed 
him  from  all  sides.  Some  of  the  fellows  gave 
chase  when  they  saw  the  fur  in  his  mouth. 
The  Newfoundland  dodged  everybody  and  con- 


THE     LEVEE.  1 55 

tinued  his  flight  down  School  Street.  As  he 
neared  the  Fern.  Sem.  his  pace  decreased.  A 
feeling  of  shame  seemed  to  overtake  him.  His 
exhilaration  gave  place  to  a  downcast  expres- 
sion. His  tail  dropped.  His  ears  fell ;  but  he 
still  clung  in  a  dogged  way  to  his  prize.  When 
he  came  in  front  of  those  mysterious  buildings, 
from  sheer  force  of  habit  he  turned  to  a  familiar 
door,  and  huddled  up  against  it.  Mr.  Roger 
Mansfield  might  call  on  half  a  dozen  young 
ladies  in  an  evening,  but  the  dog  knew,  if  no- 
body else  did,  where  he  stayed  the  longest. 

Calvin  whined  and  scratched.  The  girl  from 
the  West  peeked  through  a  crack  in  the  door, 
gave  a  joyful  squeak  when  she  saw  the  dog,  and 
then  looked  about  for  its  owner.  Calvin  stalked 
in  with  a  tired  look  and  laid  the  dilapidated  fur 
cape  down  with  a  distinct  air  of  apology. 

Next  day  John  Strong  received  a  delicately- 
scented  note  which  ran  as  follows.  The  shock 
it  gave  him  was  nothing  less  than  galvanic. 

MR.  STRONG  : 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  thank  you  for  so  promptly  sending  me  the 
cape.  It  came  safely  to  hand  and  we  kept  the  messenger  to 
tea.  Very  truly,  ELVA  SELFRICH. 


1 56  THE     LEVEE. 

What  could  John  do  ?  He  hardly  dared  to 
show  his  face  in  the  street.  It  was  not  long 
before  the  joke  was  out.  John's  sensitiveness 
was  sorely  tried.  Like  many  a  boy  ignorant  of 
the  ways  of  society,  he  made  matters  worse  by 
his  excessive  shyness.  He  could  not  summon 
his  courage  to  write  a  letter  of  apology  and 
explanation. 

It  might  have  been  ten  days  after  Calvin's 
memorable  visit  to  the  Fern.  Sem.  that  a  great 
event  happened  in  Andover.  This  was  the  first 
Levee  of  the  season.  The  majority  of  the  citi- 
zens and  aliens  of  this  country  may  not  know 
what  a  Levee  is.  For  the  benefit  of  such  un- 
enlightened ignorance,  we  may  say  that  a  Levee 
at  Andover  used  to  correspond  to  what  the  rest 
of  the  world  now  calls  a  reception.  This  Levee 
was  held  at  the  house  of  the  Professor  of 
Depravity. 

The  Senior  class  of  Abbott  Academy  were 
invited,  to  the  last  girl.  The  theologues  had 
also  their  usual  sweeping  invitation.  A  few 
Academy  boys  matching  in  number  such 


THE     LEVEE.  157 

"Abbott  girls"  as  were  deemed  worthy  of  the 
honor,  were  selected  and  received  a  scrupulously 
formal  invitation. 

This  maddening  occasion  had  arrived.  Awk- 
ward theologues  were  superciliously  stared  at 
by  brazen  "cads,"  and  ignorant  "cads  "were 
easily  overwhelmed  by  experienced  theologues. 
Many  a  stolen  interview  would  to-night  for  the 
first  time  culminate  in  open  introduction. 

The  Fern.  Sems.  in  the  dressing-room  cast  a 
last  look  at  the  long  gilt  mirror,  gazed  shyly  at 
the  group  on  the  first  landing  and  fluttered 
down  two  by  two.  The  Academy  boys,  for  the 
most  part,  were  in  their  social  element,  howbeit 
here  and  there  a  flannel  shirt  testified  to  an 
ignorance  of  conventionalities  at  which  only 
rude  impulse  would  smile. 

John  Strong  had  received  what  the  boys  call 
his  "invite,"  and  after  long  hesitancy  had  deci- 
ded to  spare  half  an  hour  for  the  Levee,  in 
hopes  that  an  introduction  to  Miss  Selfrich 
might  give  him  his  eagerly-desired  opportunity 
for  apology.  He  felt  that  this  step  was  due  to 
her  and  to  himself,  to  John  Calvin,  and  to  the 


158  THE     LEVEE. 

seal-skin  cape.  He  grudged  every  moment 
away  from  his  lessons  and  his  sick  friend. 
John  liked  a  good  time  as  well  as  any  other 
boy.  This  feeling  that  he  must  continually  be 
on  the  drive  was  not  a  priggish  one.  Doc. 
had  lost  strength  steadily  since  the  last  ex- 
citement. John  simply  felt  that  his  duty  lay 
there.  He  came  of  a  stock  that  didn't  think 
a  good  time  was  the  most  important  thing 
in  life. 

Strong  entered  as  a  guest  the  house  where 
he  had  been  refused  occupation  as  a  stable-boy. 
He  had  never  appeared  handsomer  or  more  dis- 
tinguished than  he  did  on  that  evening.  He 
had  a  white  collar  attached  to  a  flannel  shirt 
and  a  blue  necktie  almost  concealed  the  fact. 
His  coat  was  shiny  and  nearly  worn  out,  but  as 
neat  as  a  pin.  His  pale  face  and  high  forehead 
shone  with  light  reflected  from  rose-colored 
lamp  shades. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Strong?  No  matter 
about  being  late.  We  are  so  glad  to  have  you 
here.  Now,  let  me  see "  —  The  vivacious 
young  hostess  raised  her  eyeglass  with  a  criti- 


THE     LEVEE.  1 59 

cal  glance  toward  the  circle  of  promenaders  that 
revolved  about  the  kerosene  chandelier. 

"Of  course  you  must  meet  some  of  our  young 
ladies.  Will  you  have  a  pretty  or  an  intellectual 
one  ?  Did  you  know  that  Dr.  Strong,  president 
of  Buncome  College,  a  distinguished  namesake 
of  yours,  is  present  ?  Ah  !  there  he  is  with 
Miss  Selfrich." 

John  raised  his  eyes  and  saw  Miss  Elva's  face 
shyly  glancing  at  him  from  above  a  dazzling 
mass  of  fluffy  white.  A  tall,  angular,  chin- 
whiskered  man  held  her  arm.  John  noticed 
that  many  regarded  her  companion  with  amuse- 
ment. The  eminent  President's  dress  coat 
seemed  to  fit  him  awkwardly.  Two  by  two, 
full  thirty  couples  kept  walking  with  an  intellec- 
tual air  about  that  winking  chandelier.  It  was 
a  continuous  procession.  When  Mr.  Strong 
obtained  a  full  back  view  of  Dr.  Strong  of  Bun- 
come  College  he  saw  that  his  dress  coat  tails 
were  carefully  tucked  each  in  its  corresponding 
trousers  pocket.  The  reverend  gentleman  him- 
self was  utterly  oblivious  of  the  ludicrous  effect 
he  produced.  He  was  absent-minded  in  the 


I6O  THE     LEVEE. 

grotesque  sense  that  geniuses  are.  On  coming 
to  the  reception  he  had  dreamily  asked  Roger 
Mansfield,  who  accompanied  him  : 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  my  coat  tails  ?  They 
are  always  in  my  way.  I  never  know  what  to 
do  with  them  when  I  am  going  anywhere.  I  con- 
sider full-dress  an  invention  of  the  Evil  One." 

"  Why  don't  you  put  them  in  your  pockets  ? " 
was  Roger's  witty  response. 

"That's  a  capital  idea,"  answered  the  scholar 
gravely.  So  in  those  trousers  pockets  the  two 
insulted  coat  tails  did  remain  until  a  philan- 
thropist took  the  abstracted  man  one  side  and 
relieved  the  Levee  of  embarrassment. 

"Ah  !  Mr.  Strong,  I  understand  that  you  are 
studying  to  be  a  professional  nurse  and  are  go- 
ing on  the  nine  ? "  proceeded  the  hostess  in  her 
chatty  way. 

John  replied  absently  to  this  disjointed  ques- 
tion. He  followed  Miss  Selfrich  in  her  orbit 
with  great  interest. 

The  hostess  turned  to  the  next  new-comer, 
and  John  was  forgotten.  The  advancing  guest 
proved  to  be  the  Professor  of  Hebrew  who  had 


THE     LEVEE.  163 

only  come  in  to  pay  his  brief  compliments. 
Suddenly  a  shriek  arose. 

"  Get  out,  you  brute  !  Down,  sir !  Drive 
him  out!" 

Alas !  who  but  John  Calvin  could  be  the  cause 
of  this  fatal  interruption  ? 

Ths  social  dog  had  appeared  on  his  own  invi- 
tation and  was  rubbing  his  wet  fur  diligently 
from  dress  to  dress  seeking  his  beloved  master. 

"  O,  Professor ! "  said  the  hostess  despair- 
ingly, turning  to  the  learned  gentleman,  "do 
take  the  beast  out.  You  are  so  tender  !  " 

By  this  time,  Calvin,  in  despair  at  not  find- 
ing his  master,  who  was  in  another  room,  had 
attached  himself  to  Miss  Selfrich,  and  proceeded 
to  put  his  paws  lovingly  upon  her  spotless  robes. 
The  Professor,  Dr.  and  Mr.  Strong  came  valor- 
ously  together.  The  procession  had  stopped. 
The  chandelier  seemed  to  blink.  John  took 
Calvin  by  the  collar  while  the  Professor  of 
Hebrew  gingerly  grasped  him  by  the  tail.  The 
dog  was  at  last  landed  in  the  hall,  where  his 
master  appeared  to  hasten  Calvin's  discomfited 
departure. 


164  THE    LEVEE. 

Roger  and  John  returned  to  the  parlor.  The 
procession  was  again  describing  its  exciting  pa- 
rabola, and  Miss  Elva  stood  apart,  watching  the 
two  returning.  Roger  gracefully  advanced  to 
the  young  lady  and  with  a  wave  of  the  hand 
said  : 

"  Let  me  present  to  you  my  cousin  and  your 
preserver,  Mr.  Strong." 

The  boy  bowed.  At  last,  he  and  the  young 
lady  were  upon  a  sound  footing  of  social 
acquaintance.  After  a  few  jokes  about  the 
ubiquity  of  the  dog,  John,  after  the  manner  of 
the  place,  gravely  offered  his  arm  and  they 
joined  the  ring.  For  a  few  minutes  both  were 
silent.  Neither  knew  how  to  begin. 

"It  wasn't  my  fault,"  John  blurted  out  finally. 

"  I  know  it,"  answered  the  girl  gently. 

"  I  didn't  want  him  sent  off,  believe  me." 

Miss  Elva  blushed.  She  now  saw  that  he 
was  speaking  about  her  brother.  She  sighed 
deeply. 

"  Yes,  I  do  not  blame  you.  It  was  his  fault, 
I  know." 

"  And  the  cape.     I  was  so  careful  of  it.     I 


THE     LEVEE.  1 65 

couldn't  catch  Calvin  that  day."  The  boy  was 
eager  not  to  be  misunderstood  by  this  lovely 
girl. 

Miss  Elva  laughed  merrily. 

"  Oh  !  that's  all  right.  What  a  joke  on  you, 
and  on  me  too,"  she  added  archly,  looking 
down. 

At  that  moment  a  pale  young  face  beckoned 
John  from  the  door.  It  belonged  to  the  Prep, 
who  roomed  across  the  Commons  Hall.  The 
two  walked  quickly  toward  him.  His  excited 
words  tumbled  into  John  Strong's  ear. 

"  He's  very  sick.  Lambkin  sent  me.  Come 
right  away!  " 

"  Poor  fellow,"  exclaimed  Elva.  Then  turn- 
ing to  John,  "  Go  quickly  —  do  !  Don't  stop  to 
say  good-by." 

With  a  heavy  heart  John  hurried  from  warmth 
and  brightness  into  the  black  night  whose  dark- 
ness was  only  intensified  by  a  few  consumptive 
kerosene  lamps  that  flickered  against  the  cold, 
gray  snow. 


CHAPTER   X. 

POOR    DOC.  ! 

IT  was  not  many  steps  around  the  corner  to 
his  room.     From  the  long   line  of  the  dor- 
mitories, here  and  there  a  studious  lamp  cast  a 
sickly  ray  into  the  night. 

John's  heart  fell  within  him  as  he  stumbled 
up  the  outside  steps.  Profound  stillness  was 
within.  A  cold,  bitter  draught  attacked  him 
as  he  carefully  opened  the  outside  door,  trying 
to  prevent  its  usual  creak.  Sometimes  on 
windy,  wintry  nights  that  door  would  awake 
every  student  in  the  house  as  it  groaned  and 
slammed  in  impotent  effort  to  wrench  itself 
away.  Many  a  Prep,  has  buried  his  frightened 
head  under  pillows  that  knew  no  down,  when 
windows  and  shingles  and  doors  rattled  their 
uncanny  accompaniment  to  the  wind  and  storm. 
As  John  entered  the  hall  the  door  of  his  room 
1 66 


POOR    DOC.  !  167 

was  softly  opened  and  Lambkin's  hand  caught 
John's  arm  with  nervous  emphasis. 

"Hush,"  whispered  Lambkin.  "Doc.  is  a 
great  deal  worse.  He's  been  out  of  his  head 
half  of  the  time,  and  yelling  for  you.  He's 
quiet  now  for  the  first  time." 

"  Have  you  sent  for  the  doctor?"  asked  John 
hurriedly.  "  Perhaps  I  had  better  go  now." 

"The  Prep,  went  after  he  called  you.  I  ex- 
pect him  any  time." 

John  pushed  open  the  door  of  his  room.  As 
he  did  so,  the  hot,  poisoned  odor  of  an  illy-ven- 
tilated sick  room  struck  him  in  the  face.  At 
first  he  shrank  back  with  a  new  sensitiveness. 
His  thoughts  flashed  to  his  mother's  plain  but 
exquisite  home  that  had  so  much  neatness, 
order  and  purity,  and  so  little  comfort.  The 
light  had  been  thoughtfully  placed  within  the 
inner  bedroom  and  turned  indiscreetly  down. 
The  faint  smell  of  gassing  kerosene  almost  nau- 
seated John  as  he  entered.  Thus  the  light  was 
for  the  most  part  cut  off  from  the  main  room, 
which  was  entirely  filled  by  the  stove,  the  table, 
two  chairs  and  the  sick  boy's  bed.  Dark 


1 68  POOR   DOC.  ! 

shadows  hung  over  that  bed  ;  the  scene  was 
like  one  of  the  old  Dutch  paintings.  A  glow 
from  the  open  door  of  the  stove  lighted  the  pale 
face  of  Doc.  as  he  feebly  turned  it  to  greet  his 
friend.  What  a  change  in  that  face  !  John 
perceived  it  instantly,  although  he  had  only 
been  absent  a  few  minutes.  No  one  could  have 
recognized  the  irrepressible  boy  who  had  been 
such  a  joker  last  term.  His  face  had  shrunken 
over  its  bones,  leaving  eyes  and  nose  in  promi- 
nent relief.  Doc.  at  no  time  could  see  five 
feet  without  his  glasses,  and  now  his  protruding 
orbs  had  that  glassy,  nervous  and  vacant  look 
which  all  very  near-sighted  people  have  when 
they  are  ill.  As  John  entered,  the  sick  boy's 
eyes  rolled  towards  him.  The  grotesque  act 
became  a  gesture  most  pathetic.  Doc.  panted 
as  if  he  breathed  with  difficulty,  and  tried  to 
throw  the  blankets  off. 

"  Lie  still,  Doc.,  I'm  here.  Don't  you  know 
your  friend  Strong  ?  "  As  John  spoke  he  took 
Doc.'s  dry  hand  gently  and  laid  it  in  his  own. 

"  I  am  so  glad.  I  am  safe  now.  You  won't 
leave  me,  old  fellow,  will  you?"  Doc.  Shelby 


POOR     DOC.  ! 


uttered  these  words  with  a  shuddering  moan. 
John,  as  an  effectual  answer,  sat  down  beside 
him  on  the  bed  and  held  his  hot  hand  tightly. 

Yes,  Doc.  was  desperately  sick.  That  was 
plain  enough.  His  skin  was  parched.  The 
weak  and  irregular  pulse  beat  the  feverish  gait 
of  a  hundred  and  thirty-two.  Upon  the  stove 
was  a  dish  of  hot  water.  With  his  free  hand 
John  reached  for  a  handkerchief,  soaked  it  and 
placed  the  grateful  warmth  upon  the  sufferer's 
temples.  He  had  seen  a  member  of  the  Sama- 
ritan Society  do  this  once  while  calling.  Con- 
sidering it  the  thing,  he  didn't  know  what  else 
to  do.  Any  one  or  any  two  of  those  ladies 
would  have  gladly  come  to  his  aid  on  that  hard 
night,  but  Doc.  was  unmanageable  on  the  point 
of  his  nursing.  He  would  have  nobody  but 
John.  Besides,  the  boys  were  so  inexperienced 
that  they  did  not  realize  the  full  force  of  the 
situation.  They  sat  one  on  each  side  of  the  bed 
and  watched  Doc.  intently  in  the  light  of  the  fire. 

A  heavy  step  was  now  heard  without.  John 
nodded  with  relief  at  Lambkin  who  opened  the 
door  softly  and  brought  the  doctor  in. 


I/O  POOR     DOC.  ! 

"Ah  !"  began  Dr.  Pillbury  in  a  professional, 
whole-souled  tone,  which  inspired  the  confidence 
of  sure  recovery,  "  our  young  friend  is  a  little 
sick,  is  he  ?  We'll  pull  him  through  all  right. 
A  little  out  of  his  head,  did  you  say  ?  Umm  ! 
The  fever  will  thrash  itself  out  to-night.  Pulse 
is  high.  Skin  hot  and  dry.  Umm  !  We'll  al- 
ternate with  aconite  and  bry.  Give  him  one 
teaspoonful  every  hour.  Begin  with  bryonia. 
When  he  perspires  he'll  sleep.  This  is  the  last 
of  the  fever.  This  disease  always  breaks  up 
this  way.  That's  right !  keep  the  hot  com- 
presses on  his  head.  If  he  doesn't  sleep  by 
midnight  give  him  thirty  drops  of  this,"  con- 
tinued the  doctor,  pouring  out  a  dark  red  liquid 
into  a  vial.  "  The  sleeping  portion  will  relieve 
him." 

The  man  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire  ;  he 
had  on  a  huge  bear's  skin  coat.  After  a  min- 
ute he  felt  Doc.'s  pulse  again  ;  bent  his  ear  to 
the  stertorous  breathing ;  shook  his  head 
gravely,  then  cheered  up. 

"  Umm  !  Yes,  we'll  pull  him  around  all  right. 
He'll  sleep  pretty  soon.  I'll  call  in  the  morn- 


POOR    DOC.  !  I/I 

ing  early.  Good-night."  The  physician  took 
his  leave  with  the  look  of  a  man  who  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  and  was  in  a  hurry  to  get 
where  he  would  not  be  called  upon  to  do  it. 

For  some  minutes  the  two  boys  looked  at 
each  other  silently  and  apprehensively  across 
the  tossing  and  moaning  sufferer. 

"  I  say,  old  fellow,"  whispered  John  at  length 
to  Lambkin,  "  you  go  to  your  room  now.  I'll 
stay  here.  If  I  need  you  I'll  send  the  Prep. 
There's  no  use  in  two  of  us  being  here." 

"  Isn't  there  any  thing  I  can  do  for  you  ?  I 
had  just  as  lief  stay." 

"  You  might  get  me  another  hodful  of  coal 
and  a  pail  of  water.  That's  all  I  need.  Don't 
stay,"  answered  John,  eager  to  spare  his  friend 
a  long  and  sleepless  night. 

"  I'll  get  the  coal  and  water  and  go  and  bone 
on  Greek,  and  look  in  on  you  before  I  turn  into 
bed,"  answered  Lambkin,  with  a  feeling  of  un- 
willingness to  leave  John  alone  with  Doc. 

John  still  sat  on  the  bed  in  the  same  position 
which  he  had  taken  on  coming  in.  Doc.'s  left 
hand  was  in  his.  The  head  of  the  bed  was  toward 


POOR    DOC.  ! 


the  door,  and  John  sat  toward  the  fire  and  near 
the  inner  bedroom.  He  made  a  motion  to  put 
coal  on  the  fire,  but  as  he  moved,  Doc.  clutched 
him  tightly  and  moaned. 

"  Oh  !  don't  leave  me.  Don't  go.  Don't 
go!" 

Then  John  sank  back,  and  with  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief Doc.  looked  toward  him  with  those  piteous, 
useless  eyes  ;  then  he  turned  his  head  toward 
the  curtained  window.  What  did  he  see  ? 
What  did  he  think  he  saw  ? 

For  a  few  moments  John  wondered  anxiously  ; 
then,  with  that  little  dullness  of  sensibility  which 
creeps  over  a  person  who  is  worn  with  nursing, 
his  thoughts  reverted  to  his  own  affairs.  John's 
position  was  extremely  hard,  and  it  was  grow- 
ing harder  every  day  This  summons  from  the 
Levee  was  one  of  ten  thousand  exacting  and  ex- 
hausting demands  upon  his  freedom  and  his 
time.  Poor  Doc.  could  not  realize  what  he  was 
doing,  but  the  long  and  the  short  of  the  matter 
was,  that  he  was  ruining  John's  career  in  Phil- 
lips Academy.  Little  by  little  the  new  Senior 
had  fallen  behind  in  his  class  work.  At  first  it 


POOR     DOC.  !  1/3 

was  hardly  noticeable.  John  never  made  a 
downright  "flunk"  ;  he  only  seemed  uncertain 
of  his  ground.  It  often  happened  that  he  cut 
a  recitation  entirely.  More  frequently  he  came 
in  late.  Such  irregularities  tell  fast  upon  a 
teacher's  record-book.  Although  the  Faculty 
had  paid  many  visits  of  condolence  to  the  sick 
boy  in  John's  room,  yet  they  had  no  compre- 
hension of  the  facts  in  the  case.  John  did  not 
tell  them ;  he  was  too  loyal  and  too  proud. 
Should  he  go  to  Uncle  Jim  and  complain  that 
Doc.  made  him  read  Dickens  aloud  when  he 
should  have  been  reading  his  Homer ;  that  the 
sick  boy  fretted  himself  into  a  fever  at  a  change 
of  nurses  ;  that  John  was  daily  attendant  and 
night  watcher ;  that  Doc.  was  jealous  of  his 
every  moment,  his  every  deed,  his  look,  his 
touch,  his  exercise,  Uncle  Jim's  furnace,  even 
his  studies  ?  How  could  he  ?  Uncle  Jim's  eye 
was  keen  ;  but  he  was  a  well  man,  and  the  cul- 
ture of  the  sick  room  was  not  in  his  curriculum. 
He  did  not  understand. 

How  had  the  enfeebled  boy  borne  this  strain  ? 
Father  Lambkin  knew,  though  nobody  else  did, 


POOR  DOC.! 


unless  it  were  Calvin.  Lambkin  it  was  who 
had  dragged  John  by  sheer  moral  force  to  the 
gymnasium  a  few  minutes  every  day.  Compul- 
sory gymnastic  exercise,  such  as  is  practiced  in 
Amherst  College,  is  an  excellent  thing  for  just 
such  cases.  If  Andover  Academy  had  military 
drill,  such  as  is  found  in  some  of  our  fitting 
schools,  it  would  be  the  better  for  her  boys. 

During  these  short  minutes  in  the  gymnasium 
John  forgot  his  troubles.  He  twirled  the  ball 
with  a  nervous  vim.  With  digital  dexterity  he 
developed  the  drop,  the  rise,  the  in-shoot,  the 
out-shoot,  and  all  the  other  shoots  that  puzzled 
an  opposing  batsman.  His  "  double-twisters  " 
soon  became  the  admiration  and  talk  of  the 
whole  Academy.  As  he  fell  back  in  his  les- 
sons, his  fame  as  a  pitcher,  such  was  the  irony 
of  fate,  began  to  increase.  John  took  all  the 
accompanying  prosperity  with  embarrassment. 
He  played  to  live.  He  did  not  live  to  play  ; 
and  all  this  talk  troubled  him.  One  day  in  the 
gymnasium,  as  he  was  surrounded  by  boys  who 
were  applauding  his  swift  curves,  a  hush  fell 
upon  the  crowd.  John  turned  and  saw  Uncle 


POOR    DOC.  !  175 

Jim's  eyes  fixed  sternly  upon  him.  He  flushed 
furiously,  and  hung  his  head  as  if  he  had  been 
caught  in  a  scrape.  The  Principal  and  the 
teachers  were  sorry  to  attribute  John's  mediocre 
recitations  to  a  growing  athletic  passion  which 
has  proved  the  eclipse  of  so  many  shining 
scholars. 

"John,"  groaned  Doc.,  "John,  can't  you  get 
me  a  lump  of  ice  ?  " 

John  started  from  what  seemed  to  him,  when 
he  looked  at  his  patient,  as  a  selfish  revery. 
There  was  a  great  change  in  Doc.  Even  John's 
inexperienced  eyes  saw  this,  but  in  the  dim  light 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  realize  how  signifi- 
cant it  was. 

"  I'll  have  to  go  out  to  get  it,"  said  John 
hurriedly. 

"No,  no  ;  no,  don't  leave  me.     I'm  so  tired." 

Doc.'s  thin  hand  clutched  him,  and  John  sank 
back  on  the  edge  of  the  bed.  At  that  moment 
the  door  opened. 

"  How  is  he  ?  "  whispered  Lambkin. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  John  mournfully.  "He 
seems  to  me  to  look  sorter  queer." 


POOR    DOC.  ! 


"  I  think  I'd  better  stay,"  said  Lambkin  with 
resolution. 

"No,  no;  you'd  better  turn  in,"  said  John 
bravely.  "  He  must  have  me.  There's  no  need 
of  two  of  us." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?     Dead  sure  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Good-night,  then.  Mind  you  call  me  if  any- 
thing happens.  Good-night." 

John  was  left  again  alone  —  oh  !  how  alone  ! 
with  the  shadows  and  the  sick  boy.  Doc.  had 
forgotten  ail  about  the  ice  now,  and  began  to 
mutter  deliriously.  Suddenly  he  flung  the  bed- 
clothes off. 

"Help!"  he  cried.  "Don't  let  them  touch 
me!" 

"No,  they  sha'n't  ;  I  am  here."  John  tried 
to  put  the  patient  under  the  blankets. 

"  Oh  !  but  they  will.  I  see  them.  All  in 
black.  The  water  is  so  cold." 

"No,  no!  you're  all  safe."  John  put  his  arm 
around  the  trembling  boy  who  stared  about  him. 
"  Come,  old  fellow,  you're  all  right  now  ;  lie 
down.  I'm  here.  Don't  you  know  me  ?  " 


POOR     DOC.  ! 


The  shivering  boy  clung  to  John's  neck  and 
seemed  to  sob,  but  no  tears  came. 

"  Just  let  me  put  a  little  coal  on  the  fire  ;  I'll 
be  right  back,"  said  John  gently,  when  Doc. 
had  become  quieter  and  only  shook  with  an  oc- 
casional sob. 

"No,  no,  no.  Don't  leave  me  at  all."  He 
clung  with  both  hands  to  John's  arm.  John 
managed  to  shut  the  upper  door  of  the  stove  ; 
that  would  keep  the  fire  from  going  out.  The 
darkness  was  now  deeper  in  the  room. 

John  sat  there,  shaken  by  the  scene.  He  felt 
the  pathos  and  the  helplessness  of  his  situation. 
No  one  was  to  blame  for  it.  It  was  one  of  the 
accidental  tragedies  of  sickness  and  inexperi- 
ence. Such  are  possible  anywhere,  but  rare 
in  Andover  Academy.  "I'll  pray  it  off,"  said 
John  to  himself.  Then  he  bowed  his  head 
so  that  his  forehead  touched  Doc.'s  feverish 
hand,  and  whispered. 

"  Lord,"  said  John,  "  I  never  took  care  of  so 
sick  a  person.  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  Make 
him  better,  and  help  me  out.  I'm  so  tired  " 

"What  are  you  saying?"   interrupted  Doc. 


POOR    DOC. 


feebly.  He  seemed  to  have  come  to  himself. 
"It  is  very  dark." 

"  I  want  you  to  get  well  soon,"  answered 
John,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  "I'll  get  the  light 
and  turn  it  up." 

"  No,  don't  leave  me.  I  guess  I'm  a  goner  ;  " 
the  old,  queer  smile  flashed  over  his  gray  face, 
but  John  did  not  see  it.  He  felt  it  in  the  voice. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  John  cheerily,  though 
his  heart  gave  an  unaccountable  leap. 

"  Yes  ;  "  the  sick  boy  spoke  slowly.  "  My 
chest  is  awful.  My  head  is  worse  than  ever. 
I  am  a  goner." 

The  old  chapel  clock  drearily  struck  one. 
The  Old  South  re-echoed  the  stroke.  A  third 
peal  from  the  valley  beyond  took  up  the  sound 
and  solemnly  smote  the  frosty  air.  John  roused 
himself  and  gave  Doc.  a  dose  of  the  sleeping 
mixture.  With  Doc.'s  hands  still  tightly  clasped 
in  his,  he  lay  down  beside  the  sinking  boy,  and 
drew  his  old  gray  shawl  over  them  both.  It 
was  very  cold.  Doc.  turned  his  head  restlessly. 
Suddenly  he  whispered  with  a  ghost  of  his 
former  laugh  : 


POOR    DOC.  !  179 

"  I  guess  Selfrich  and  his  gang  won't  bother 
me  any  more." 

"  They  never  shall,  bless  you  !  "  answered 
John  solemnly.  He  patted  Doc.  tenderly. 
This  seemed  to  comfort  the  poor  fellow. 

Unbroken  stillness  fell  again  upon  Room 
No.  2. 

"  One,  two  "  —  pealed  out  the  chapel  bell. 
"  One,  two  "  —  "  One,  two  "  —  fainter,  fainter ; 
and  then  the  threefold  stroke  died  away. 

John  shivered  and  started  to  get  the  light, 
but  Doc.  held  him  more  tightly  in  a  convulsive 
grasp  and  would  not  let  him  go.  Just  then  the 
lamp  flickered  in  the  next  room  and  went  out, 
leaving  a  sickly  odor  and  intense  blackness 
behind.  John  grew  desperate.  He  flung  a 
curtain  from  the  nearest  window  aside,  and 
looked  out.  He  felt  as  if  he  must  see  some- 
thing or  shriek.  Stars  twinkled  merrily  at  him, 
and  the  black  outline  of  the  next  dormitory 
loomed  up. 

"  Strong  !  —  Strong  ?  "  came  from  the  bed. 
"  I  am  such  a  stupid  ;  do  you  suppose  God  has 
'em  like  me  up  there  ?  " 


i8o  POOR  DOC.  ! 

"  Yes,  ten  thousand !  "  answered  John, 
fiercely  brushing  away  the  tears. 

Doc.  fell  back  again.  He  hugged  the  precious 
hand  he  held.  It  was  father,  mother,  brother, 
all  to  him. 

"One,  two,  three!"  The  bell  tolled  the 
hour  solemnly.  John  sprang  at  the  sound. 
Each  peal  went  through  him  like  a  dull,  inex- 
plicable pain. 

"  I  like  the  bells.  They  are  so  happy,"  mur- 
mured Doc.  more  feebly.  "Say — Strong  — 
tell  me  —  shall  I  always  be  a  Middler  there  ? " 

The  boy  seemed  to  listen  for  the  last  stroke 
from  the  Old  South  Church.  He  gave  a  sigh 
of  content  when  its  vibrations  had  ceased. 
There  was  a  sound  in  his  throat  that  was  new 
to  John.  The  hot  head  became  cold  and  damp. 
In  terror,  why,  he  knew  not,  John  tried  to 
wrench  his  hand  away  ;  but  the  grip  held  him 
like  a  vise.  Remembering  a  match  he  had  in 
his  pocket,  he  struck  it,  and  held  the  flickering 
flame  near  Doc.'s  face.  At  the  sight  he  saw, 
he  gave  a  mighty  cry.  But  boys  sleep  hard  in 
those  wind-tossed  dormitories,  and  nobody  re- 


POOR     DOC.  !  l8l 

sponded.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  John  sat 
alone  in  the  presence  of  death.  The  simple  lad 
had  gone  where  stupidity  is  not  laughed  at,  and 
where  too  heavily-conditioned  Middlers  are  not 
hazed. 

In  those  old  days  a  thousand  boys  have  been 
"put  through"  a  thousand  times  more  roughly 
than  Doc.  Shelby,  and  have  taken  it  lightly,  and 
when  their  turn  came,  have  done  unto  others  as 
was  done  unto  themselves.  But  here  was  one 
whose  sensitiveness  could  not  stand  the  rude 
shock.  Let  the  boy  who  thinks  it  sport  to 
"  run  "  an  under  classmate  in  such  rough  ways, 
stay  his  hand  !  Perhaps  your  last  victim  is  the 
one  who  will  bear  the  life-long  marks  of  your 
good-natured  cruelty. 

But  these  were  old  times  long  passed.  An- 
dover,  with  other  schools  and  colleges,  is  leav- 
ing the  barbarous  practice  of  hazing  behind, 
and  every  student  ought  to  be  as  safe  there  as 
in  his  father's  house. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  but  one, 
the  Middle  class  with  crape  upon  their  arms 


1 82  POOR     DOC.  ! 

walked  in  a  long  procession  to  a  rear  lot  in  the 
Chapel  Cemetery,  reserved  for  just  such  friend- 
less burials.  No  one  of  the  dead  boy's  relatives 
had  answered  Uncle  Jim's  telegrams.  John 
walked  behind  the  bier,  the  "  nearest  "  mourner. 
The  Principal  stood  beside  him.  For  the  mem- 
ory of  the  dead  lad's  dead  father,  Uncle  Jim's 
stern  face  wore  his  best  and  tenderest  look,  as 
he  bared  his  head  to  the  winter  wind  above  the 
open  grave. 


CHAPTER   XL 

"SCIRE   EST    REGERE." 

EVERY  great  fitting  school  has  its  famous 
debating  society.  The  Philomathean  So- 
ciety of  Phillips  Andover  is  a  historic  feature 
of  that  school. 

The  attendance  at  "  Philo  "  had  been  unusu- 
ally large  that  winter  term  of  which  we  write. 
John,  who  had  "cut"  the  first  meetings  of  the 
term  was  now  in  his  seat  every  Friday  evening, 
when  Lambkin,  the  dignified  president,  with 
the  gravity  of  a  Solon,  would  rap  the  wooden 
gavel  on  the  table,  with  these  words : 

"  Gentlemen  !  The  meeting  will  now  come 
to  order.  The  first  exercise  of  the  evening  is 
the  reading  of  the  minutes  of  the  previous 
meeting.  Gentlemen  !  "  (  rap,  rap  )  "  order,  if 
you  please ! " 

So  far  so  good.  But,  from  that  time,  to  keep 
183 


184  "SCIRE     EST     REGERE." 

those  turbulent  boys  in  order  would  have  taxed 
a  greater  parliamentarian  than  generally  sat  in 
the  honored  chair.  The  members  of  Philo  only 
waited  to  be  lighted  by  any  spark,  to  go  off  like 
a  cracker. 

Philo  was  born  in  1825.  We  do  not  think 
that  the  Honorable  Horatio  B.  Hackett,  or  the 
venerable  Ray  Palmer,  founders  of  the  "  Im- 
mortal Philo,"  would  have  been  ashamed  of  the 
rousing  debates  which  their  successors  held 
that  winter.  John  threw  himself  into  these 
weekly  discussions  with  spirit.  He  began  to 
be  considered  quite  a  formidable  speaker,  and 
"  bids  "  were  frequently  made  to  him  by  leaders 
in  their  turn,  to  debate  on  their  side  of  the 
seething  question  of  the  evening.  These  de- 
bates were  spirited  and  studious  ;  quite  up  to  a 
high  standard  in  the  polemic  achievements  of 
boys.  On  the  whole,  the  words  of  an  early  mem- 
ber might  have  been  said  of  Philo  many  years 
ago,  at  the  time  of  our  story  :  "  This  society  is 
a  noble  institution.  Talent  is  here  brought 
out,  mind  is  here  cultivated,  and  taste  refined." 
As  much  could  easily  be  said  to-day. 


"  SCIRE     EST     REGERE."  l85 

But  toward  the  end  of  this  term  the  meetings 
became  charged  with  a  feverish  fluid.  The  de- 
bates grew  heated  and  bitter.  Members  hustled 
each  other  rancorously  as  they  entered  or  left 
the  hall.  The  president  had  all  he  could  do  to 
keep  order.  He  was  evidently  in  sad  need  of 
a  sergeant-at-arms  to  force  refractory  members 
into  silence.  The  Critique  at  the  end  of  each 
meeting  was  generally  marked  by  exuberant 
praise  or  unstinted  blame.  It  happened  once 
or  twice  that  the  boy  who  performed  that  un- 
popular duty  for  the  evening  was  soused  in  snow 
by  unknown  hands  before  he  reached  his  room. 
The  time-honored  decorum  of  the  meetings  was 
often  defied  by  a  derogatory  epithet  that  started 
from  an  obscure  corner,  was  taken  up  and  hurled 
back  with  scorn,  then  supplemented  by  another, 
until  amid  these  mimic  lightnings,  the  thunder 
of  the  gavel  descended,  and  for  the  moment 
there  was  sullen  peace.  It  was  at  this  time 
that  the  famous  motion  was  put  and  carried  to 
exclude  all  members  under  fourteen  years  of 
age.  This  unprecedented  outrage  convulsed 
the  school.  A  visitor  at  one  of  these  meetings 


1 86  "SCIRE    EST    REGERE." 

\ 

might  have  supposed  the  academy  to  be  the  re- 
ceptacle of  a  motley  crowd  of  youth,  each  of 
whom  hated  the  other.  But  not  at  all !  These 
were  only  the  premonitory  symptoms  of  the  last 
Philo  election  of  the  year. 

At  these  periods  the  implacable  feud  between 
the  boys  who  roomed  in  Commons,  and  those 
who  roomed  in  town,  broke  out.  It  was  the  old 
Radical  and  Tory  party  in  different  dress. 
Here  the  Commons  boy  represented  the  sturdy 
Radical,  the  "  Townie  "  the  aristocratic  Tory, 
and  both  fought  it  out  again  for  the  fiftieth 
time,  when  election  day  came  around. 

Now  all  the  victories  and  disappointments  of 
the  year  were  concentrated  in  this  last  strug- 
gle. The  election  was  to  be  held  at  two  o'clock 
on  the  last  Saturday  of  the  winter  term  in  the 
lower  chapel.  Both  parties  expected  confi- 
dently to  win.  What  made  this  fight  the  more 
virulent,  was  the  fact  that  almost  the  same 
tickets  were  said  to  be  in  the  field  as  those 
offered  at  the  last  election.  The  Commons' 
boys  had  put  in  Lambkin  as  the  last  president. 
They  had  also  carried  the  treasurer  and  the 


"  SCIRE     EST     REGERE."  iS/ 

executive  officers,  but  had  been  defeated  on 
vice-president  and  secretary.  Sunshine,  who 
had  been  previously  nominated  against  Lambkin 
for  president,  was  now  leading  his  ticket  again. 
So  high  ran  the  feeling  that  a  town  boarder  did 
not  even  recognize  a  Commoner  on  the  street. 

John  had  watched  the  wire  pulling,  the  fili- 
bustering, the  secret  caucuses,  the  electioneer- 
ing, the  class  politicians,  with  quiet  interest. 
Sunshine  would  have  lost  caste,  had  he  spoken 
to  John  at  all,  nowadays.  The  two  opposite 
ends  of  the  political  pole  were  content  to  wink 
at  each  other  good-naturedly  as  they  passed. 
Both  knew  that,  election  over,  the  flames  of 
discord  would  be  extinguished,  and  the  ashes 
of  coldness  blown  out  of  the  window. 

But  Lambkin  was  a  class  politician  of  a  good 
order.  He  was  not  coarse,  nor  was  he  "up  to" 
questionable  party  tricks.  He  was  as  straight- 
forward as  a  yard  stick.  He  took  popularity  as 
a  gift.  He  did  not  court  it.  And  there  is  the 
secret  of  your  popularity  :  never  to  seek  it,  nor 
to  recognize  it  too  readily.  The  Commons' 
boys  rallied  around  Lambkin  naturally.  Who 


188  "  SCIRE     EST     REGERE." 

could  better  represent  their  cause  ?  The  Father 
of  the  Milktoast  Club  looked  confident  of  vic- 
tory as  the  decisive  day  approached. 

One  Friday  evening,  coming  from  a  good 
milktoast  supper,  Lambkin  linked  his  arm  in 
John's  with  unusual  affectionateness. 

"  Look  here,  Strong,"  said  Father  Lambkin, 
"look  here  !  we  are  going  to  run  you  for  vice- 
president." 

"  Do  you  want  to  get  left  ?  "  asked  John  in 
the  utmost  astonishment. 

"That's  just  what  we  don't  want.  I've  in- 
vited two  or  three  of  the  committee  up  to  your 
room  to  talk  it  over.  You'll  have  to  do  just 
what  we  tell  you  !  " 

John  made  a  gesture  that  seemed  almost  like 
wincing,  but  this  was  not  perceived. 

"  You  see,"  continued  Lambkin,  when  they 
had  reached  John's  room,  and  three  fellows  with 
a  mysterious  air  had  slipped  in,  "  we've  got  to 
beat  them  this  time.  The  boys  put  me  up,  and 
it's  my  duty  to  Commons  to  run.  Now  you're 
about  tne  strongest  man  we've  got,  only  you 
haven't  been  here  long  enough  to  run  for  presi- 


"SCIRE     EST     REGERE."  189 

dent,  so  I  have  to  take  it.   If  your  name  goes  on 
the  ticket,  we're  all  agreed  we're  going  to  win." 

"Are  you  sure?"  asked  John  doubtfully. 
To  tell  the  truth  he  was  quite  moved  at  the 
honor. 

"  You  bet ! "  said  one  of  the  committee, 
"  we've  canvassed  English  and  Latin  Commons 
and  they  have  agreed  to  vote  for  you  right 
through." 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  exactly  the  man  you 
want.  I  haven't  had  much  expe  "  — 

"  Nonsense  !  "  interrupted  one  of  the  com- 
mittee. "  It  doesn't  require  any.  It's  the  easi- 
est office  of  the  lot.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to 
get  up  and  take  the  chair  when  Lambkin  wants 
to  spout." 

John  smiled. 

"  Now  you  can't  go  back  on  us,  old  fellow," 
urged  Lambkin.  "  The  whole  scheme  will  fall 
through  if  you  don't  run." 

"  You'll  have  to  run  me.  I'm  no  good  run- 
ning myself." 

"You  trust  us  for  that!  Is  it  agreed?" 
Lambkin  held  out  his  hand. 


SCIRE     EST     REGERE. 


"  All  right  !  "  said  John. 

Thereupon  the  four  shook  hands  with  him  as 
solemnly  as  if  he  had  accepted  the  Temperance 
nomination  for  the  lieutenant-governorship  of 
Massachusetts. 

"  Now  don't  you  let  it  out,"  whispered  the 
committee-man,  "  but  here  are  the  tickets  with 
your  name  down  ;  we  had  them  printed  yester- 
day." 

John  read  the  slip  in  a  dazed  way.  It  was 
headed  by  the  Philomathean  motto  : 

"  Scire  est  Regere" 

PRESIDENT, 
ARTHUR   J.    LAMBKIN. 

VICE-PRESIDENT, 
JOHN   STRONG. 

SECRETARY, 
SYD.    L.    DALSTAN. 

He  could  read  no  more,  for  the  throbbing  of 
his  heart  and  blurring  of  his  eyes,  but  he  did 


"  SCIRE     EST     REGERE."  IQI 

not  suppose  the  other  fellows  would  understand 
why  he  was  so  moved  by  this  small  thing.  Oh, 
dear  Andover !  The  country  boy  now  felt  him- 
self on  the  honor  list  of  the  old  Academy.  The 
quiet  student  valued  this  fleeting  distinction 
the  more  because  he  expected  it  so  little.  John 
was  the  only  boy  in  Andover  who  was  surprised 
at  this  nomination,  which  the  Radicals  in  Philo 
confirmed  that  night. 

But  now  the  important  Saturday  had  arrived. 
Nods  and  winks  and  smiles  and  paper  missiles 
had  been  hotly  exchanged  between  the  respec- 
tive leaders  of  each  rival  faction  during  the 
morning  recitations.  Mystery  and  resolve 
seemed  to  settle  in  the  air.  The  old  hacked 
benches  had  the  air  of  whispering  confidences 
and  of  suggesting  sure  ways  of  getting  ahead. 
They  were  experienced,  not  to  say  blast  benches, 
able  to  tell  —  how  much  ? —  if  they  would  ;  anx- 
ious perhaps  to  say,  "  Oh  !  the  generations  of 
young  plotters  that  we  have  seen,  just  as  eager, 
just  as  feverish,  just  as  sure  that  the  world  hung 
upon  their  maneuvers  and  political  astuteness." 

Many  a  boy  has  developed  at  these  hotly-con- 


IQ2  "  SCIRE    EST     REGERE. 

tested  Philo  elections  a  scarcely  enviable  repu- 
tation as  a  strategist.  Boys  will  forgive  a  fault 
of  almost  any  kind,  but  never  the  trickery  of 
the  school  politician.  It  follows  him  through 
life. 

Both  parties  had  agreed  that  the  polls  should 
be  open  from  two  till  half-past  two  o'clock  on 
that  eventful  Saturday  afternoon.  This  was 
another  new  rule,  passed  in  Philo  by  a  hand- 
some majority.  The  printed  tickets  had  been 
distributed  that  morning  for  the  first  time,  the 
ringleaders  having  kept  them  back  for  a  greater 
effect.  John's  name  on  the  Commons  ticket 
was  a  severe  blow  to  the  opposing  party.  The 
fight  had  become  simply  one  between  the  poor 
and  the  rich  —  a  fight  as  old  as  humanity  itself. 

"  I  was  in  hopes  they  wouldn't  think  of  that 
Strong,"  said  one  of  Sunshine's  party,  twirling 
a  slight  cane  with  one  hand  and  burying  his 
other  in  his  broad-checked  suit. 

"  I  don't  see  how  that  feller  takes  so,"  com- 
plained his  intimate  friend.  "  He  don't  smoke. 
He's  poor  as  blazes.  He  soups  on  Uncle  Jim. 
He"  — 


"  SCIRE     EST     REGERE.  IQ3 

"No,  he  doesn't.  Give  him  his  due.  He's 
square,  he  is,  though  I  don't  cotton  to  him. 
But  we'll  fix  the  lot  this  time."  This  prophecy 
was  accompanied  and  followed  by  a  deadly  wink. 

"  Is  it  all  arranged  ?     Sure  ?  " 

"You  just  wait!  Sh ! "  The  two  with  a 
swagger  passed  into  the  hall  where  morning 
prayers  were  held. 

"  Don't  you  say  another  word !  "  said  one  of 
the  Commons  Committee  to  Lambkin.  "We've 
got  'em  this  time.  We'll  beat  'em  by  six  votes 
sure.  I've  got  it  all  down  on  paper.  Every  one 
has  been  pledged.  Here  they  come  !.  They've 
got  their  tickets  all  ready.  Keep  cool,  old  fel- 
low, keep  cool ! " 

The  Committee  mingled  with  a  troop  of  ex- 
cited boys  who  massed  themselves  on  one  side 
of  the  hall  glaring  at  their  opponents  on  the 
other. 

"  Now,  boys,"  whispered  the  chairman  of  the 
Committee  to  his  group,  "it  will  be  two  o'clock 
in  just  five  minutes.  Get  together,  and  vote 
right  off,  to  be  sure.  Don't  let  them  fool  you 


194  "SCIRE     EST     REGERE." 

out  of  it  !  We  are  sure  of  them  this  time." 
Every  new-comer  was  button-holed  and  treated 
to  the  same  exhortation. 

When  John  arrived,  at  just  three  minutes 
before  two,  he  was  greeted  heartily. 

"Have  you  your  ticket  ready?"  asked  the 
chairman  anxiously.  "  Here's  one  !  " 

"Yes,  but  of  course  I  sha'n't  vote.  You 
don't  expect  a  man  to  vote  for  himself  ? " 

"  You've  got  to.  If  every  one  on  the  ticket 
refused,  we'd  lose.  It's  too  close.  Bottle  up 
your  nonsense,  Strong,  and  put  that  ballot  in!" 

Instantly,  John  was  the  center  of  an  excited 
group  that  proceeded  to  impress  upon  him  the 
grave  necessity  of  his  voting  for  himself  as  well 
as  for  the  rest  of  his  ticket.  It  seemed  to  John 
a  new  ideal  of  personal  delicacy  ;  yet  he  did 
not  want  to  be  fussy  and  priggish. 

"It's politics /"  urged  the  chairman.  "Don't 
you  know  politics  make  everything  —  um  — • 
different  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  admitted  John.  He  silently 
folded  his  ticket. 

Two  o'clock  struck. 


"  SCIRE     EST     REGERE. 


"  Now,  boys,  ready  !  "  The  call  rang  from  all 
the  leaders.  The  boys  surged  up  to  the  ballot- 
box,  guarded  by  representatives  of  both  factions. 
But  the  Tories  had  gotten  in  ahead,  and  were 
blocking  up  the  way  with  exasperating  coolness 
and  slowness. 

"  Now  don't  rush,  fellows  !  There  is  plenty 
of  time  !  Take  it  easy  !  "  cried  a  Commons 
leader.  Then  came  the  yells  : 

"  Hurrah  for  Lambkin  !  " 

"Bully  for  Strong!" 

"  Whoop  her  up  for  Dalstan  !  " 

"  Sunshine  to  the  front  !  " 

There  was  not  much  doubt  which  was  the 
confident  party. 

But  if  a  Commons  observer  had  been  close 
enough,  he  would  have  seen  sinister  looks  ex- 
changed between  the  two  fellows  who  occupied 
the  front  seat  on  a  certain  Lawrence  sleighride. 
He  would  have  seen  them  anxiously  consulting 
their  watches,  shoving  the  Commons  boys  back, 
and  looking  forward  to  the  door,  as  if  waiting 
for  something  to  happen. 

"  It's   all   right,"  whispered  one  in   the  ear 


196  "  SCIRE    EST    REGERE." 

of  the  other,  "  I  hear  'em  at  it.  Don't  you 
worry"  — 

"Fire!  Fire!!  FIRE!!!  Latin  Commons 
on  fire  !  ' ' 

The  cry  pealed  through  the  campus  and  down 
the  street. 

Cling  —  clang  —  clang  !  rang  out  the  school 
bell  with  that  peculiar  and  terrible  vibration  it 
only  takes  to  itself  at  the  time  of  such  a  catas- 
trophe. The  boys  in  the  hall  stared  at  each 
other.  For  an  instant  those  excited  voters 
seemed  as  uncertain  what  to  do  as  a  setter 
between  a  bone  and  a  gunshot. 

It  might  have  been  noticeable  that  a  few  of 
the  boys  were  not  so  astonished  at  this  alarm 
as  they  should  have  been. 

"  Man  the  engine  !  "  a  cry  rang  from  their 
midst.  It  was  the  conspirator  in  the  checked 
suit  who  yelled.  He  had  but  just  put  his  watch 
in  his  pocket. 

Lambkin,  who  was  the  captain  of  the  suction 
hose,  lost  no  time  in  the  general  perplexity. 

"  What  house  is  it  ?  "  he  called  to  the  boy 
who  had  opened  the  door  and  given  the  alarm. 


SCIRE     EST     REGERE. 


"No.  6  on  fire  !"  Somehow,  to  a  careful  ear 
the  tone  would  not  have  seemed  genuine  ;  but 
what  Commons  boy  thought  of  that  ? 

"  It's  my  room  !  "  cried  one. 

"  It's  mine  !  "  echoed  another,  in  a  phrensy. 

"  It's  mine!  "  shouted  the  third  wildly.  They 
stampeded  the  hall. 

Duty  was  clear,  and  Lambkin  followed  it. 

"  Come  with  me,  fellows,  to  the  engine  ! 
Double  quick  !  " 

With  a  rush,  and  a  mad  scamper,  the 
Commoners  dashed  out  to  the  scene  of  the 
conflagration. 

"We  might  as  well  vote  before  we  go,  boys  !  " 
said  the  arch-Tory,  stopping  the  flight  of  his 
own  party.  "  We'll  get  there  in  time.  'Tisn't 
our  funeral  —  you  stay  there!"  to  the  two 
Commons  boys  who  were  one  half  of  the  com- 
mittee at  the  polls,  "and  see  that  we  vote 
fair!" 

With  wonderful  rapidity  they  threw  in  their 
ballots,  as  their  names  were  checked  off,  and 
hurried  out.  The  four  boys  with  the  precious 
box  were  left  alone. 


198  "  SCIRE    EST     REGERE." 

Cries  of  "  Fire  !  fire  !  "  were  now  heard  from 
all  directions. 

"  Shall  we  go  ? "  asked  a  Tory  of  a  Commoner. 

"  I  don't  think  we  ought,"  was  the  slow 
reply. 

"  But  what's  the  use  of  staying  here  alone  ?  " 

"  I  suppose,  according  to  the  by-laws,  the 
polls  must  be  open  until  the  time  is  up." 

"  Oh  !  bosh  the  time  !  " 

"  I  guess  there  are  plenty  there,  we'll  stay. 
You  can  go."  The  sturdy  Commoner  rather 
enjoyed  the  other's  impatience,  even  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  own.  So  these  four  officers  of  the 
occasion  waited  eagerly  until  the  clock  tolled 
the  half-hour,  then  they  rushed  madly  from  the 
chapel  with  their  box,  and  the  last  Philo  elec- 
tion was  legally  over. 

As  the  boys  who  roomed  in  Commons  dashed 
out,  following  Lambkin,  an  ominous  cloud  of 
black  smoke  greeted  their  eyes.  The  wind  blew 
from  the  Milktoast  Club  in  direct  line  down 
the  row  of  gray  dormitories.  If  No.  6  went 
they  were  all  doomed.  The  danger  seemed 


"  SCIRE     EST     REGERE."  199 

imminent.  It  is  true  nobody  would  have  been 
very  sorry ;  but  property  was  property  —  even 
the  Latin  Commons.  And  fires  do  not  stop 
where  they  are  told  to,  and  a  general  blaze  on 
the  Hill  would  have  been  no  joke. 

"  'Rah,  for  the  engine  !  "  yelled  Lambkin, 
making  for  the  engine-house  opposite  the  old 
pump. 

The  Principal,  aroused  by  the  cries  and  bells, 
appeared  upon  the  scene.  He  was,  ex  officio, 
the  head  of  the  engine  company.  His  scholars 
were  as  proud  to  be  under  his  guidance  in  trun- 
dling "  Old  Phillips  "  out  and  spouting  water 
up  to  some  third-story  window  on  training  after- 
noon, as  to  follow  his  guidance  in  the  mazes  of 
an  abstruse  demonstration.  Lambkin  will  al- 
ways count  it  one  of  the  chief  honors  of  his 
school  life,  that  he  was  captain  of  the  spout 
under  Uncle  Jim. 

"  Where  is  the  fire  ?  Get  her  right  out, 
boys !  " 

"  No.  6,  Latin  Commons,  sir,"  answered 
Lambkin,  breathing  heavily,  and  pointing  to  the 
smoke. 


2OO  "  SCIRE    EST    REGERE. 

With  fifty  boys  at  the  ropes  the  engine  rolled 
out  as  quickly  and  as  easily  as  a  baby-carriage. 
The  boys  bent  to  their  business,  and  they  were 
at  the  fire  in  no  time. 

"  This  is  a  false  alarm,  gentlemen,"  cried  the 
Principal,  who  was  not  to  be  trifled  with  at  a 
fire  any  more  than  in  recitation.  "  Why  was  I 
called  out  to  see  a  fence  burn  ?  Who  set  this 
afire  ?  "  Uncle  Jim's  majestic  form  swelled  at 
the  affront.  As  every  boy's  heart  beat  the 
faster  when  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  the 
Senior  classroom  door  that  bore  the  mystic 
"  No.  9,"  so  every  heart  beat  the  slower  when 
that  commanding  eye  swept  from  the  boys  to 
the  bonfire,  and  back  again  to  the  boys. 

Some  one  had  evidently  emptied  a  half  a  bar- 
rel of  kerosene  on  a  pile  of  shavings  at  the  foot 
of  the  fence  by  the  last  building  in  Latin  Com- 
mons. A  blaze  had  flared  up  with  black  smoke. 
Some  of  the  fellows  had  exaggerated  the  alarm 
—  was  it  merely  for  fun  ?  The  bells  rung,  the 
Fire  Department  aroused,  Uncle  Jim  summoned 
from  his  empty  study  — 

"The  truth!  I  demand  the  truth!"  exclaimed 


"  SCIRE     EST     REGERE."  2OI 

the  Principal  to  the  school.  The  fire  was  for- 
gotten, the  bells  were  silent.  The  situation  was 
strained. 

"  Look  up  there  !"  cried  a  voice,  breaking  in. 
"  Look  !  " 

It  was  John  Strong  who  spoke.  He  pointed 
with  his  stick  at  a  bright  flame  perched  upon 
the  roof  of  No.  6. 

"  Man  the  brakes  ! "  roared  the  Principal. 
The  school  rushed  to  the  engine  and  to  the 
Shawsheen  cistern.  Here  was  a  case  of  real 
fire.  Only  a  few  shavings  soaked  with  oil,  and 
only  blown  by  the  wind  upon  the  old,  dry  roof, 
but  what  mischief  might  have  come  of  it  !  The 
quick  eye  of  the  quiet  boy  had  averted  a  serious 
conflagration. 

But  before  the  pump  was  got  to  work,  a  well- 
known  head  emerged  from  the  scuttle  on  the 
roof,  and  a  figure  glided  to  the  menacing  flame. 
A  quick  jerk,  and  it  was  thrown  down. 

"  Dalstan  !  "  cried  the  crowd,  "  Dalstan  !  " 

Dalstan  roomed  in  No.  6,  and  had  evidently 
been  up  there  before,  for  his  agility  was  remark- 
able, and  when  the  danger  was  over,  the  school 


2O2  "  SCIRE    EST     REGERE. 

roared  at  his  timely  appearance.  The  boys 
remembered  too  well  that  the  spring  before 
John  entered  school,  Dalstan  used  to  climb  up 
on  the  roof  of  No.  6  midnight  after  midnight, 
and  sit  astride  the  ridgepole,  making  night 
hideous  with  a  cracked  violin.  Missiles  could 
not  dislodge  him.  He  perched  immovable, 
while  the  indignation  of  Latin  Commons,  and 
indeed  of  the  whole  neighborhood  ran  high. 
Finally,  a  deputation  of  citizens  waited  upon 
Uncle  Jim  for  relief. 

"  Sir ! "  said  Uncle  Jim  to  Dalstan  in  his 
sternest  tones,  "sir,  you  may  deliver  to  me 
your  musical  instrument !  " 

"Which?"  asked  the  nonplussed  boy,  "I 
have  thirteen,  sir  !  " 

When  the  engine  was  put  away,  Lambkin 
bethought  him  for  the  first  time  of  the  Philo 
election.  The  Commons  made  for  the  hall  to 
vote.  It  was  empty.  The  clock  struck  three. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  said  Sunshine,  when  they 
had  found  him.  "  It's  too  bad.  I  suppose 
we've  got  to  go  in  !  " 


"  SCIRE     EST     REGERE.  2O3 

"  Go  in  ? "  cried  the  Commons  in  amazement. 

"  Yes  !  "  interrupted  the  complacent  Tory  ; 
"  haven't  you  fellers  heard  ?  I  understand  that 
the  committee  has  just  formally  counted  the 
ballots  cast  by  the  end  of  the  allotted  time. 
We  got  thirty-two  votes,  and  you  only  cast 
three.  You  see  we  elected  our  ticket  straight !  " 

Thus  fell  the  blow  of  this  political  coup  cCttat 
upon  the  Commons  and  their  candidates.  The 
wrangling  began  hotly.  Nightfall  only  finished 
it.  Two  teachers  acting  as  arbitrators  decided 
that  technically  the  Commons  had  defeated 
themselves. 

But  when  the  fire  was  finally  laid  at  the  door 
of  the  new  vice-president  of  Philo,  its  embers 
proved  too  hot  for  him,  and  he  resigned  his 
office.  Uncle  Jim  never  knew  who  burnt  that 
fence.  Sometimes  a  school  does  its  own  pun- 
ishing, and  it  is  well  that  it  should  be  so. 

John  Strong  had  not  noticed  the  unusually 
kind  look  that  Uncle  Jim  had  given  him  when 
he  observed  the  flame  on  the  roof.  He  was  too 
much  absorbed  in  his  discovery.  In  the  hot 
political  discussions  of  that  day,  he  did  not  take 


2O4  "  SCIRE     EST    REGERE." 

much  part.  He  was  disappointed,  but  not  over- 
come by  his  defeat.  To  be  trusted  by  the  boys 
and  nominated,  seemed  a  great  experience. 

That  night,  when  he  went  into  his  dark  room 
after  taking  care  of  his  furnace,  the  match  that 
he  struck  flared  upon  an  envelope  laid  against 
the  match-safe  and  addressed  to  himself.  A 
sum  of  money  fell  from  the  envelope — small, 
but  large  to  him.  Who  sent  it  ?  Whence  did 
it  come?  What  did  it  mean?  John  did  not 
know  what  waves  of  kindness  could  sweep  over 
the  heart  of  an  unapproachable  man  —  yet  was 
he  not  the  man  whom  every  boy  that  walked 
the  streets  of  Andover  dared  to  call  "Uncle?" 

Long  afterwards,  John  suspected  the  truth. 
These  fluctuations  in  Uncle  Jim's  feeling  toward 
the  boy  whom  he  did  not  understand,  were 
among  the  mysteries  of  his  strong  character. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE     FIRST     ANEMONE. 

AT  last  the  long  step  between  winter  and 
spring  was  over.  These  six  weeks  of 
snow,  of  slush,  of  mud,  of  raw  winds,  of  flurry, 
of  little  sunshine,  of  hope  long  delayed,  of  prom- 
ise never  performed,  of  colds  and  rubber  boots, 
of  impatience  and  of  endurance,  were  a  little 
more  hated  in  Andover  than  in  any  other  part 
of  New  England.  To  read  of  greenness  and 
blossoms  in  New  Jersey,  and  to  be  unable  at 
the  time  to  detect  with  a  microscope  the  first 
symptoms  of  them  in  Massachusetts  is  aggra- 
vating for  Phillips  boys.  It  is  much  more 
aggravating  for  Abbott  academy  girls.  The 
Fern.  Sems.  look  forward  to  no  part  of  their 
thorough  course  of  study  more  eagerly  than  to 
Gray's  Botany. 

But  now  the  warm  sun  had  burst  upon  An- 
205 


2O6  THE    FIRST    ANEMONE. 

dover  hills  and  valleys  to  stay.  Its  lingering 
coquetry  was  over.  It  dried  up  the  walks ;  it 
coaxed  pussy-willows  from  their  hiding-places  ; 
it  commanded  the  chestnuts  to  unfold  broad 
leaves  and  prepare  their  white  plumes  ;  it  whis- 
pered to  the  birds  who  opened  their  throats  and 
sang  mad  carols  to  please  their  new  mates  ;  it 
smiled  upon  the  dark  pines  and  upon  the  soft 
meadows  by  the  Shawsheen  River.  Then  the 
glorious  old  sun,  satisfied  with  its  work,  took 
John  Strong  by  the  hand  and  led  him  down 
through  the  oaks,  back  of  English  Commons, 
down  the  road,  over  the  river,  under  the  railroad 
bridge,  until  he  rested  at  the  foot  of  Indian 
Ridge,  panting  and  thanking  God  that  he  could 
walk  so  far. 

John  was  intoxicated  with  this  his  first  spring 
walk.  He  sat  down  near  the  road  and  looked 
into  the  river  and  the  woods.  There  glittered 
one  or  two  white  points  beyond  the  little  valley. 
These  were  the  monuments  in  the  Old  South 
Cemetery,  now  bathed  in  light.  At  John's  feet 
ferns  were  trying  their  best  to  uncurl.  The 
boy  looked  from  the  cemetery  to  the  struggling 


THE     FIRST     ANEMONE.  2O/ 

fronds,  and  gravely  wondered  how  it  was  possi- 
ble that  anything  could  die.  Then  he  remem- 
bered that  on  the  winter  night  of  Doc.'s  death 
he  had  wondered  that  anything  could  live. 

What  a  thing  of  life  is  sunshine  !  Hot  rays 
shot  down  this  Saturday  afternoon.  It  was  the 
last  day  of  April,  and  John,  who  had  been 
brought  up  in  a  cold  New  Hampshire  village, 
thought  it  the  warmest  April  afternoon  he  had 
ever  seen.  His  feet  were  in  the  sun,  but  he  sat 
in  the  shade.  He  was  alone.  He  had  never 
walked  so  far  in  all  his  life.  As  he  sat  there, 
his  lameness,  his  hardships  were  forgotten  ; 
only  the  beautiful  of  life  remained.  John  was 
in  a  state  of  exhilaration.  It  was  as  if  he  had 
breathed  nitrous  oxide.  Was  this  ecstasy  purely 
physical,  or  was  it  like  that  of  a  disembodied 
spirit  ?  John  was  a  delicate  boy,  and  he  some- 
times asked  himself  such  questions. 

Now,  while  he  sat  there  in  the  sun,  his  soul 
floating  away  in  a  pleasant  revery,  a  chattering 
and  laughing  and  screaming  awakened  him. 
Instinctively  he  drew  back.  He  did  not  wish 
to  be  seen  or  to  see.  Such  solitude  was  too 


2O8  THE     FIRST     ANEMONE. 

rare  to  be  thrown  away.  John  plunged  like  a 
frightened  animal  as  fast  as  his  feet  could  carry 
him,  up  the  gravelly  side  of  the  hill,  into  a  little 
glade,  and  up  again,  until  he  stood  trembling 
in  the  path  on  the  top  of  Indian  Ridge.  He 
listened  intently.  He  looked  along  the  path  in 
both  directions  ;  as  far  as  he  could  see  no  one 
was  visible.  He  heaved  a  short  sigh  of  content. 
The  most  beautiful  spot  in  Andover  was  still 
his. 

He  began  to  walk  slowly  here  and  there, 
searching  for  a  dry  resting  place.  Deeper  in 
the  woods  he  found  a  well-trodden  path  which 
he  followed  with  the  expectant  longing  that 
woodland  explorers  feel.  It  led  up  into  a  hollow 
basin.  From  the  south  and  west  there  was  an 
opening  through  the  pines.  Spring  had  sought 
out  this  place  and  had  clothed  it  with  grass  and 
warmth  and  moss.  A  thick  bush  of  elderberry 
caught  John's  eye.  He  sauntered  up  and  looked 
behind  it.  Ah,  there  was  the  cosiest  place  in 
all  the  world!  He  crept  in  gently.  The  ground 
was  covered  with  pine  needles,  dry  and  warm. 
John  threw  himself  down  contentedly.  He 


THE     FIRST     ANEMONE.  2(X) 

could  see  the  open  space,  but  could  not  himself 
be  seen.  His  eyes  wandered  here  and  there 
delightedly.  What  freedom  was  this  ! 

Suddenly  he  caught  sight  of  a  single  white 
anemone  growing  within  reach  of  his  hand.  It 
was  at  the  sunny  edge  of  the  bush,  and  under 
it.  The  delicate  petals  were  tinged  with  pink. 
There  was  but  one  flower  on  the  stem.  John 
stretched  out  his  hand  as  if  to  pick  it.  Then 
he  drew  back.  He  would  let  it  grow  until  he 
went  home.  It  would  not  wither  then.  A 
gentle  wind  came,  and  the  lovely  anemone 
swayed  its  head  as  if  it  thanked  the  boy  for 
leaving  it  a  little  longer.  John  gazed  upon  it 
rapturously.  It  was  the  first  anemone  of  the 
spring  for  him.  Perhaps  it  was  the  first  in  all 
that  country  round.  Of  course  there  must  be 
a  first  somewhere.  John  studied  it,  blew  upon 
it,  that  it  might  bow  before  him  again.  Then 
he  loved  it. 

He  now  lay  upon  his  back,  peering  into  the 
blue  of  the  sky  between  the  branches  of  the 
bush  and  of  the  trees.  He  faintly  heard  some 
catbirds  scolding  each  other.  He  looked  at  the 


2IO  THE     FIRST     ANEMONE. 

anemone  again.  It  seemed  to  nod  to  him.  He 
nodded  back  as  if  it  had  been  a  live  thing. 
Then  a  resinous  drowsiness  overtook  him,  and 
he  fell  asleep. 

He  could  not  have  slept  long,  when  he  was 
awakened  by  the  sound  of  footsteps.  He  opened 
his  eyes  dreamily  and  lazily.  He  did  not  stir. 
At  first  he  thought  that  the  interruption  was  a 
dream-sound,  for  he  saw  nothing ;  the  steps 
had  stopped.  He  was  closing  his  eyes  once 
more,  when  he  distinctly  heard  the  cracking  of 
twigs.  Pretty  soon  a  gray  figure  grew  into 
sight.  It  strolled  with  averted  head  looking 
for  something  on  the  ground.  It  was  the  slight 
figure  of  a  young  girl.  John  Strong  hardly 
moved  a  muscle  as  the  girl  walked  straight 
toward  him  into  the  sunny,  open  space.  But 
still  she  held  her  face  bent  down.  She  was 
looking  for  wild  flowers.  John  gave  a  start. 
It  was  Miss  Elva  Selfrich,  the  girl  of  whom  he 
had  hardly  dared  to  think. 

He  had  not  spoken  to  her  since  the  night  of 
the  Levee.  He  had  only  passed  her  now  and 
then  on  the  street,  and  had  given  her  his  best 


THE     FIRST     ANEMONE.  211 

bow.  Beyond  this  John  was  too  honorable  to 
intrude  himself  upon  her,  even  in  his  thoughts. 
But  now  as  he  recognized  her,  a  fear  swept 
over  him.  He  really  wished  that  she  might  not 
see  him,  that  he  could  not  see  her.  A  blush  of 
embarrassment  flushed  his  face,  that,  unknown 
to  her,  he  should  watch  her.  He  felt  it  a  dis- 
courtesy that  he  could  not  help.  He  hoped  she 
would  turn  and  go  away.  And  still  he  looked. 

The  young  lady  sauntered  leisurely.  She  en- 
joyed the  quiet  spot  and  the  solitude.  She 
made  a  motion  to  sit  down,  but  the  thought 
that  the  other  girls  would  troop  up  and  spoil 
her  peace  deterred  her.  Then  the  teacher's 
whistle  might  sound  at  any  moment,  to  call  the 
gentle  flock  together.  Besides,  this  was  the 
first  botanizing  trip,  and  Miss  Marks,  their 
teacher,  had  offered  a  prize  for  the  first  anem- 
one brought  to  her.  The  girls  had  dispersed  in 
an  exciting  hunt.  Elva  slowly  and  carefully 
sought  out  the  places  where  the  anemone  ought 
to  grow.  She  followed  the  little  opening  around, 
and  was  now  coming  surely  to  the  bush  behind 
which  John  was  hidden.  John  was  in  a  quan- 


212  THE    FIRST    ANEMONE. 

dary.  He  didn't  know  whether  to  arise  and 
bow  and  flee,  or  to  trust  to  luck  that  she  would 
pass  him  by.  He  decided  on  the  latter  course 
and  waited  breathlessly.  Miss  Elva  drew  nearer. 
As  she  walked  slowly  with  her  eyes  glued  to 
the  ground,  she  gave  a  little  cry.  She  had 
espied  at  a  short  distance  the  single  anemone 
that  John  had  left,  nodding  in  the  bright  air. 
With  an  exclamation  she  rushed  upon  it. 

"  Oh  !  you  little  beauty.  Oh  !  you  dear  little 
beauty."  Then  she  started  back.  She  did  not 
scream,  she  was  too  frightened.  She  groaned 
"  O/i-/i/"  She  had  seen  the  outline  of  a  man 
behind  the  bush.  She  could  not  stir.  She  was 
fastened  to  the  ground  with  terror. 

"  O,  please,  Miss,  don't !  Don't  be  fright- 
ened. Oh  !  I  arn  so  sorry  it  is  I.  Don't  you 
know  me  ? "  John  had  jumped  to  his  feet. 
He  looked  very  handsome  as  he  stood  before 
her.  The  young  lady  paled  and  flushed  and 
paled  again. 

"  Oh  !  how  could  you  ? "  she  said  thoughtlessly. 

"And,  if  you'll  excuse  me,  Miss  Selfrich,  I 
didn't." 


THE    FIRST     ANEMONE.  213 

John  spoke  manfully  enough,  but  in  fact  the 
sensitive  boy  was  keenly  hurt.  Elva  Selfrich 
was  quick  enough  to  perceive  this. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  gently  ;  "  how  could 
you  know  I  was  coming  ?  " 

"  I  thought  that  I  was  out  of  the  way  here. 
I  didn't  suppose  that  I  should  bother  anybody. 
I  came  to  — er  —  think,"  said  John,  wondering 
what  he  did  come  for. 

"Did  you?  I  didn't  ;  I  came  to  botanize." 
The  anemone  at  their  feet  shrunk  at  this 
reply. 

"  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  talked  to 
you  "  —  The  boy  plunged  boldly  in,  and  then 
stopped  short  with  discomfiture.  What  did  slie 
care  if  he  never  talked  to  her  again  ?  "  That 
is,  since  the  Levee —  I  mean  "  — 

"  Yes.  That  was  a  hard  night  for  you."  Then, 
with  a  slight  flush,  "  I  am  glad  it  wasn't  any 
other  Academy  boy  under  that  bush.  I  shall 
never  forget  or  forgive  you  the  fright  you  gave 
me,  sir !  " 

John  did  not  understand  this  girlish  nonsense. 
He  was  about  to  apologize  again,  when  Elva 


214  THE    FIRST     ANEMONE. 

gave  him  a  smile,  so  sweet  and  so  reassuring 
that  it  bewildered  him.  John  was  not  used  to 
talking  to  girls.  He  had  no  sisters,  and  with 
this  young  lady  whom  he  liked  so  much,  he  felt 
himself  at  a  loss,  such  as  forward,  over-experi- 
enced young  men  will  not  understand. 

"I  —  I  hope  you're  quite  well." 

As  John  ventured  this  original  remark,  he 
wiped  the  dew  of  agony  from  his  brow.  Elva 
was  a  kind-hearted  girl,  and  now  comprehending 
at  last  that  the  poor  boy  suffered  from  the  awk- 
wardness of  the  situation,  she  hastened  to  say 
easily : 

"  Yes,  thank  you,  I'm  very  well.  I  always 
am;  and  —  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  although 
I  suppose  it  is  against  the  rules." 

"I  will  go,"  John  hastened  to  say  chivalrously. 

An  amused  expression  flitted  across  the  eyes 
of  the  pretty  girl,  though  her  lips  remained 
grave.  She  was  not  used  to  precisely  this  ideal 
of  honor  between  Academy  boys  and  Fern. 
Sems.  There  were  no  traditions  extant  to  such 
effect.  She  made  a  graceful  motion  with  her 
hand. 


THE    FIRST     ANEMONE.  21 5 

"Perhaps  it  wouldn't  be  wrong  if  I  staid  a 
minute?  " 

"A  minute?"  said  Elva.  "No,  I  don't  think 
it  would.  I'll  go  back  to  Miss  Marks  presently. 
I  must  get  my  anemone  first.  Besides,  it  isn't 
my  fault  that  I  found  you." 

And  now  John  found  it  easy  enough  to  talk. 
He  wondered  how  he  ever  could  have  felt  em- 
barrassed before  her.  Her  well-bred  sympathy 
put  him  immediately  at  his  ease.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  she  had  a  peculiar  power  in  under- 
standing him,  and  in  drawing  him  out. 

"And  so  you  take  many  long  walks  now,  Mr. 
Strong  ?  " 

"  O,  yes!"  answered  the  boy,  with  a  toss  of 
his  brown  head ;  "  I  am  so  much  better.  I 
never  walked  before.  This  is  the  longest  walk 
I  ever  took.  It  is  glorious  to  be  like  other  boys. 
Perhaps  " 

"  Perhaps  you  will  get  well  ? "  interrupted 
Elva,  "  I  am  sure  you  will." 

"  God  knows,"  said  John  solemnly. 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Elva  simply,  "  He'll  do  it 
if  He  can." 


2l6  THE    FIRST     ANEMONE. 

People  speak  of  religious  matters  instinctively 
in  Andover.  It  is  natural  to  the  place.  Many 
a  young  student  thinks  that  to  achieve  a  posi- 
tion piety  must  be  flaunted  about.  Many  a  girl 
discovers  that  a  sacred  topic  will  please  her 
teacher.  But  with  this  boy  and  girl  it  was  dif- 
ferent. They  were  both  too  genuine  —  and  as 
for  John,  he  was  too  retiring  —  to  touch  on 
religious  matters  too  easily  or  too  often.  With 
instinctive  reserve  they  silenced  the  deep  chord 
to  which  both  hearts  had,  for  that  one  moment, 
vibrated. 

"  I  understand  from  Mr.  Mansfield,"  contin- 
ued Elva,  after  a  little  pause,  and  with  a  slight 
blush,  "  that  you  are  quite  a  ball-player." 

"  O,  no  !  It  does  me  good  to  pitch.  I  think 
the  exercise  has  helped  me.  I  pitch  to  get  well 
—  if  I  can." 

"  Will  you  play  on  the  nine  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  the  time,"  answered  John  quietly. 
"  You  see,  it's  different  with  me ;  I  have  to 
study  and  —  live,  too." 

"  Live  ?  "  asked  the  girl  vaguely. 

"  Support  myself,"  explained  John,  coloring. 


THE    FIRST     ANEMONE.  2I/ 

"Do  you  support  yourself  ? "  asked  Elva,  after 
a  moment's  hesitating  silence. 

"  Why,  yes  ;  I  have  to,  of  course.  I  always 
have."  John  said  this  so  modestly,  making 
neither  a  disgrace  nor  a  parade  of  his  poverty, 
that  Elva's  bright,  light  heart  was  touched. 
Elva  had  always  had  all  the  money  she  needed 
—  pretty  clothes,  pretty  things  ;  she  had  never 
known  in  all  her  life  what  it  meant  to  desire 
some  one  of  the  common  comforts  of  life  des- 
perately, or  need  it  bitterly,  and  have  to  say,  "  I 
can't  have  it  ;  I  must  do  without."  She  looked 
at  John  with  gentle  perplexity.  Her  eye  caught 
the  poor  quality  of  his  clothes,  their  awkward 
rural  fit  ;  perhaps  she  had  never  noticed  this 
before.  She  could  not  understand  what  poverty 
meant ;  what  biting,  scraping,  suffering  poverty 
like  John  Strong's  must  mean.  But  she  had 
the  womanly  instinct  and  tender  imagination 
that  go  far  to  supply  the  place  of  experience, 
and  she  looked  at  John,  and  her  sweet  young 
face  quivered  a  little. 

"Too  bad  !  "  she  said,  under  her  breath,  "I 
am  so  sorry." 


2l8  THE    FIRST    ANEMONE. 

"  I  don't  need  anybody  to  be  sorry  for  me," 
said  John  proudly. 

{'Then,"  said  the  girl  quickly,  "let  me  respect 
you.  May  I  ?  I  do  ;  indeed  I  do,  with  all  my 
heart  !  " 

John  lifted  his  head.  He  looked  at  her  grate- 
fully. What  was  that  in  her  soft  eyes  ?  A 
tear?  —  for  him?  John  could  not  speak,  but 
he  could  have  bowed  his  head  before  her  and 
blessed  her. 

"  Squee-ee  !  skwieck  !  ee —  sk  —  sk  squee-ek.  \  " 

A  very  feminine  attempt  to  blow  a  masculine 
tin  whistle  quavered  along  the  ridge.  The 
sound  might  have  been  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off, 
or  only  a  hundred  feet. 

"  Oh  !  I  must  go  ;  it  is  too  bad.  It  is  Miss 
Marks.  When  we  have  to  go  back  she  blows 
the  whistle.  At  least,  Mr.  Strong,"  said  Elva, 
with  a  pretty  look,  "  at  least,  sir,  you  will  pick 
me  my  anemone  ?  " 

John  stooped.  If  he  had  only  foreseen  that 
this  drooping  pink  bell  was  to  be  hers,  how 
much  more  would  he  have  loved  it  !  He  bent 
upon  one  knee  and  picked  the  fresh  flower, 


THE    FIRST    ANEMONE.  221 

which  did  not  seem  to  shrink  now,  but  bowed 
toward  him  gladly.  John  could  have  touched 
the  flower  to  his  lips  on  its  journey  from  the 
grass  to  Miss  Elva's  hand.  This  sentimental 
thought  was  but  a  foolish  flash.  Of  course  he 

A 

did  nothing  of  the  kind.  But  he  did  offer  the 
single  anemone  to  Miss  Selfrich  after  a  right 
knightly  fashion,  on  one  knee,  and  she  did 
receive  it  with  such  a  sweet  smile  that  — 

"  Miss  Selfrich !  I  am  surprised.  Sir,  are 
you  a  member  of  Phillips  Academy  ?  You  shall 
be  reported  to  Dr.  Tyler.  You  may  retire, 
sir !  Miss  Elva,  you  may  come  with  me  !  " 

Discovered  in  this  unconventional  attitude, 
John  jumped  up  with  flushed  face,  while  Elya 
started  back,  still  holding  to  her  precious  flower. 
Miss  Marks  advanced  upon  the  guilty  couple. 
Her  bonnet  shook,  but  she  controlled  herself 
admirably.  Her  voice  vibrated  with  displeasure. 
Two  or  three  girls  now  appeared,  and  to  judge 
by  their  suppressed  giggling,  were  not  so  much 
shocked  at  the  discovery  of  the  young  man  as 
a  member  of  the  Fern.  Sem.  is  taught  to  be. 

"  Is    this    interview    preconcerted  ?  "      The 


222  THE    FIRST    ANEMONE. 

teacher's  gloved  forefinger  pointed  austerely 
at  John,  while  her  severe  voice  was  projected 
toward  Elva. 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  I  was  alone.  I  had  gone  to 
sleep  here.  I  didn't  know  it.  It  was  a  great 
surprise,  I  assure  you."  John  turned  to  ex- 
plain. This  mollified  matters.  Elva  gave  him 
a  grateful  glance. 

"  Your  name,  sir  ?  You  may  go,  and  see 
that  it  does  not  occur  again." 

"  See,"  said  Elva,  rushing  up  to  her  botanical 
instructress.  "I  found  it  —  the  first  anemone  ! 
Will  you  please  tell  us  its  botanical  name  ?  I'll 
analyze  it  to-night." 

The  other  girls  crowded  around  the  surprised 
flower  with  cries  of  ecstasy.  The  good  teacher 
had  met  her  hobby,  and  John  was  saved. 

"Yes,  young  ladies,"  she  continued,  with  a 
change  of  tone,  "  it  is  the  nemorosa,  of  the  fam- 
ily ranunculacece.  It  is  also  called  the  wind- 
flower.  You  will  notice  that  it  has  but  one 
flower,  which  has  six  petals,  or  sepals,  rather. 
This  is  a  very  purply-pink  specimen.  The 
nemorosa  has  an  involucre  of"  — 


THE    FIRST    ANEMONE.  223 

But  John  heard  no  more.  He  had  passed 
beyond  the  lecture. 

He  was  walking  down  the  eastern  slope  of 
Indian  Ridge,  making  his  way  through  the 
woods,  over  the  gravelly  slide  toward  the  street, 
when  a  sudden  sound  stopped  him.  It  seemed 
like  a  cry  of  distress,  nay,  like  cries  of  distress. 
John  listened.  The  cries  redoubled  ;  they  be- 
came shrieks.  They  were  pitched  in  a  high, 
piercing  key ;  they  could  only  come  from 
women.  They  could  only  come  from  the  ladies 
he  had  just  left.  John  dashed  back  up  the  slope 
with  all  his  speed.  He  dug  his  stick  into  the 
ground  to  help  him  along.  The  cries  increased 
as  he  drew  nearer.  Parting  the  branches,  he 
plunged  panting  into  the  open  glade.  Had  In- 
dian Ridge  evolved  an  Indian  ?  or,  what  was 
more  probable,  a  tramp  ?  John  stopped  and 
looked  around.  The  ladies  were  there,  in  an 
excited,  shrieking  group.  The  tramp  he  did 
not  see. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  cried  John.  "  Where  is  he  ? 
Which  way  did  he  go  ?  How  was  he  dressed  ? 
How  tall  ?  I'll  catch  him.  I'll  thrash  him  ! " 


224  THE    FIRST     ANEMONE. 

John  flourished  his  stick  bravely,  looking  around 
vainly  for  the  foe.  At  his  appearance,  Miss 
Marks  swallowed  a  shriek  with  a  desperate 
gulp,  and  tried  to  speak.  By  far  the  coolest  of 
the  group  was  Elva,  and  catching  John's  eye, 
she  pointed  unsteadily  to  the  ground,  and 
managed  to  ejaculate  : 

"  There  he  is,  oh  !     Do  kill  him  !  " 

John's  eyes  followed  the  young  lady's  gesture. 
Prone  upon  the  ground,  he  lay,  nearly  six  feet 
long  —  a  black  and  writhing  object. 

"  It's  a  snake  !  A  horrid  snake  !  "  cried  the 
girls  in  chorus. 

"It  is  a  very  disagreeable  serpent,"  said  Miss 
Marks,  recovering  her  dignity.  As  John  ap- 
proached with  caution,  grasping  his  stick  with 
a  firm  hand,  the  snake  curled  itself  into  a  coil, 
raised  its  head,  and  regarded  the  young  man 
mildly.  It  did  not  breathe  flames,  or  shoot  out 
forked  tongues,  or  hiss,  or  spring  with  venomous 
leap  as  snakes  generally  do  in  novels.  This 
was  an  Andover  snake,  and  as  harmless  as  an 
exploded  doctrine.  It  looked  at  John  slug- 
gishly, but  with  a  gentlemanly  expression  as  if 


THE    FIRST    ANEMONE.  22$ 

it  were  trying  to  shake  hands.  The  sunshine 
had  warmed  it  into  benevolence.  Undoubtedly, 
hearing  the  ladies'  flute-like  voices,  it  had  crept 
out  from  its  hiding-place  with  the  very  best  of 
intentions.  Snakes  are  proverbially  fond  of 
music.  How  could  John  kill  such  an  innocent 
and  confiding  creature  ? 

"  He's  perfectly  harmless,  ladies  !  " 

"Oh,  no,  no!     Kill  him  !  kill" - 

"  But  why  don't  you  leave  him  here  ?  "  sug- 
gested John.  "  It's  easier  to  walk  away  than 
to  kill  him." 

"  I  can't  walk!  "  cried  one  of  the  girls.  "I'm 
rooted  to  the  spot  !  "  There  was  nothing  else  to 
do,  and  with  a  few  blows  of  his  stick,  John  dis- 
patched the  wondering  and  inoffensive  monster. 
The  girls  covered  their  eyes  and  turned  their 
backs  while  the  execution  was  in  progress. 
Their  shrieks  gradually  subsided  to  a  few 
gasps. 

"  Is  it  really  dead,  young  man  ? "  ventured 
Miss  Marks.  "We're  under  great  obligation  to 
you,  sir."  John  bowed  modestly.  "It  was  a 
brave  deed,"  continued  Miss  Marks. 


226  THE    FIRST    ANEMONE. 

"  It  was  heroic,"  sobbed  a  feeble  blonde. 

"  St.  George  and  the  Dragon  !  "  whispered 
another. 

"It  was  very  manly  and  —  a  —  convenient," 
said  Elva  sensibly. 

The  teacher,  who  had  now  fully  recovered 
herself,  gathered  the  scattering  girls  about  her, 
and,  mindful  of  the  rare  opportunity,  pointed  to 
the  corpse  : 

"This,  young  ladies,  is  a  common  black  snake, 
a  large  specimen  of  extraordinary  development. 
It  is  known  to  scientists  as  the  coluber  constric- 
tor. You  may  hereafter  speak  of  it  by  this  name. 
It  is  fond  of  basking  in  the  sun.  It  feeds  on 
mice,  toads,  frogs,  moles,  lizards,  and  eggs. 
This  constrictor  was  evidently  about  to  prey  on 
a  rabbit  or  a  chicken.  It  destroys  its  prey  by 
the  constriction  of  its  folds.  Hence  its  name. 
Young  ladies,  its  bite  is  perfectly  harmless." 

John  took  in  this  zoological  discourse  with 
perfect  gravity.  When  he  saw  Miss  Elva's  eyes 
twinkle  at  the  last  sentence,  his  own  responded 
merrily.  But  he  had  too  much  tact  to  give 
utterance  to  the  words  that  sprang  to  his  lips : 


THE     FIRST     ANEMONE.  22/ 

"  If  you  knew  it  was  harmless,  why  call  me  to 
kill  it  ? " 

At  this  junction,  Elva  formally  introduced 
John  to  her  teacher  and  her  friends.  Miss 
Marks  received  him  with  condescension  and  the 
girls  with  effusion.  And  before  he  knew  how  it 
happened,  John  found  himself  in  the  unusual 
position  of  escorting  a  Fern.  Sem.  party  down 
the  side  of  Indian  Ridge,  up  the  street,  toward 
home. 

Miss  Marks  was  very  gracious.  She  per- 
mitted Miss  Elva  to  walk  on  one  side  of  him 
while  she  herself  occupied  the  other. 

"It  seems  as  if  one  Columbine  Conflictor"  — 

"Coluber  Constrictor,  Miss  Selfrich,"  inter- 
rupted Miss  Marks.  "  At  any  rate,"  resumed 
Elva,  "  we  might  have  given  him  a  funeral ;  he 
and  his  name  were  long  enough." 

Under  the  reproving  look  which  this  levity 
provoked,  she  and  John  exchanged  joyous 
glances.  John  felt  indefinably  happy.  What 
was  the  matter  with  him  ?  Even  a  black  snake 
could  not  destroy  the  delicate  romance  of  this 
afternoon  on  Indian  Ridge. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

PHILLIPS   VS.   EXETER. 

,  l8  — 


MY  DEAR  MOTHER  : 
The  Draper  Speaking  came  off  last  night.  I  didn't 
tell  you  about  it  before,  so  as  not  to  worry  you. 
Nine  of  us  spoke.  I  spoke  "  The  Last  Day  of  Pompeii.'  I 
did  my  best.  I  haven't  quite  recovered  from  the  strain  of  last 
term.  After  all,  I  miss  poor  Doc.  A  fellow  whom  they  call 
"  Sunshine,"  a  good  friend  of  mine  and  a  great  base-ball  chap, 
took  first  prize,  and  they  gave  me  second.  The  prize  is  twelve 
dollars,  and  the  money  will  help  me  very  much  to  get  through. 
I  don't  feel  so  badly  about  not  getting  first.  All  the  boys  say 
I  deserved  it.  To  comfort  you,  I  quote  from  to-day's 
Phillipian  : 

"  The  audience  as  usual  were  disappointed  in  the  award.  The  committee 
seemed  to  have  been  '  cracked  '  on  technicalities.  These  are  very  good  things  ; 
but  when  a  speaker  who  forgets  half  of  his  piece,  clips  his  words  and  mur- 
ders his  English  takes  first  prize  over  one  whose  least  defects  are  to  speak 
clearly  and  understandingly  and  who  does  not  rant  around  the  stage  as  a  pro- 
fessional mountebank,  it  seems  as  if  it  were  time  to  make  a  change." 

"  Base-ball  occupies  the  most  exciting  part  of  our  time.    They 
say  Exeter  has  a  rattling  team.     Our  final  examinations  come 
on  soon.     Then  hurrah  for  home  and  you,  sweet  mother. 
Ever  your  affectionate  son, 

JOHN. 

P.  S.  The  two-dollar  bill  I  inclose  will  help  you  out  on 
something.  J. 

228 


PHILLIPS    VS.     EXETER.  22Q 

School,  after  all,  is  life.  There  is  the  same 
rush.  And  when  work  is  faithfully  done,  it  be- 
comes, in  the  phraseology  of  the  Phillips  boys, 
a  "  cold  rush."  Perhaps  John  Strong  breasted 
his  work  with  as  much  rushing  enthusiasm  as 
any  of  them.  Nevertheless,  he  had  the  sicken- 
ing suspicion  that  he  could  never  retrieve  the 
loss  of  last  term.  Uncle  Jim's  manner  to  him, 
if  nothing  else,  told  him  that  the  high  rank  he 
had  worked  for  had  slipped  through  his  fingers. 

John  had  never  been  stronger  in  his  life. 
His  lessons  were  as  perfect  as  diligence  could 
make  them.  The  care  that  nearly  broke  him 
down  was  gone.  The  June  air  —  and  there  is 
none  in  New  England  more  invigorating  than 
that  on  Andover  Hill — began  to  bring  the  glow 
back  to  a  face  paled  and  pinched  by  suffering, 
watching  and  poverty.  The  cane  that  Selfrich 
had  reason  to  remember,  was  seldom  used. 
Strong  could  walk  down  to  the  post-office  and 
back  with  exhilaration,  and  yet  he  flatly  refused 
to  play  on  the  great  Academy  nine,  much  to 
the  disgust  of  the  school  and  to  the  amazement 
of  the  Faculty. 


23O  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Lambkin  to  John  a  few 
days  after  the  Draper,  and  only  a  week  before 
the  game,  "  you  can't  do  that,  you  know.  You 
must  play.  Of  course  you  will." 

"  I  can't,"  answered  John  simply. 

"Why  not?  Out  with  it  now.  You  needn't 
try  to  bat.  If  you  do  happen  to  hit  the  ball, 
you  just  walk  down  to  first  base  as  slow  as  you 
please.  Some  one  else  will  run  for  you  there." 

"  It  isn't  that." 

"Well,  what  is  it,  then  ?  Tell  a  fellow !  You 
haven't  got  a  better  friend.  I'll  understand.  I 
guess  I  can  help  you." 

Father  Lambkin  looked  at  John  with  great 
pride  and  affection  as  he  stood  before  him.  He 
thought  there  wasn't  another  such  a  fellow  as 
John  in  the  world,  and  took  his  friend's  misfor- 
tunes very  much  to  heart. 

"The  truth  is,"  answered  John  quietly,  "the 
Faculty  are  down  on  me  enough  for  pitching 
last  term  in  the  Gym.  and  keeping  it  up  this 
term  on  the  campus.  They  think  I  neglect 
work  for  base-ball.  I  know  Uncle  Jim  thinks 
that  I  shirked  last  term  for  Gym.  practice." 


PHILLIPS     VS.      EXETER.  23! 

"But  how  can  he?"  answered  Lambkin,  with 
astonishment.  "  He  knows,  everybody  knows, 
you  slaved  yourself  to  death  for  Shelby,  and  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  that  little  pitching  you'd  have 
followed  him,  sure  as  fate." 

"  Yes,  yes."  John  spoke  wearily,  as  if  he 
were  tired  of  the  argument.  "I  know;  but 
Uncle  Jim  doesn't  see  it  that  way.  He  never 
understood  how  Doc.  held  me  down.  He 
thought  I  could  study  just  as  well  with  him 
sick  the  whole  term  in  my  room  as  I  could 
alone.  Nobody  really  understood  the  case  but 
you,  Lambkin.  You  see,  if  I  pitched  in  that 
game,  and  I  haven't  pitched  at  all  except  to 
practice  the  nine,  Uncle  Jim  will  think  I'm  sort 
of  a  hypocrite.  Don't  you  see  ?  He's  been 
good  to  me.  He's  really  supported  me.  I 
don't  want  him  to  be  deceived  in  me.  Base- 
ball is  small  compared  with  his  good  opinion." 

"But  the  honor  of  Old  Phillips!  "  exclaimed 
Lambkin  in  despair. 

"I  guess  the  nine  will  take  care  of  itself." 

John  spoke  cheerfully.  His  pitching  had 
really  become  wonderful.  Phillips  had  nothing 


232  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

to  compare  with  it,  and  naturally  tried  to  get 
him  to  play  on  its  nine.  The  base-ball  manage- 
ment had  offered  every  inducement,  but  to  no 
purpose.  It  didn't  matter  so  much  in  all  the 
preliminary  matches.  They  were  but  rehearsals 
for  the  game  of  the  year,  the  match  between 
Phillips  and  Exeter  —  rival  academies  for  fifty 
years  and  more.  Nowhere  was  this  competi- 
tion keener  than  in  the  field  of  athletics.  These 
two  schools  meet  like  gladiators  twice  a  year, 
and  measure  skilled  strength  at  foot-ball  and  at 
base-ball.  Exeter  had  won  the  foot-ball  cham- 
pionship on  her  own  grounds  the  previous  fall 
to  the  sorrow  of  all  Andover.  Now  was  the 
time  to  recover  prestige  and  glory. 

The  placards  announcing  the  great  game 
were  posted  on  all  the  fences  of  the  town. 
The  Saturday  afternoon  was  drawing  near. 
Telegrams  were  continually  exchanged  between 
the  rival  fitting  schools.  It  was  the  Friday 
night  before  the  match.  The  excitement  of  an- 
ticipation was.  almost  too  great  to  be  borne. 
Rumors  that  two  hundred  and  fifty  Exeter  boys 


PHILLIPS    VS.     EXETER.  233 

were  coming  to  "fight  the  game  through,"  shook 
the  Academy  with  apprehension.  John  Strong 
had  consented  some  time  previously  to  eat  with 
the  "  nine  "  at  the  training  table,  in  order  to  be 
able  "to  pitch  practice  balls  for  the  team,"  the 
manager  said. 

"  Won't  you  play  at  all  ? "  asked  Lambkin 
that  night  after  a  prolonged  consultation  with 
the  manager  and  captain.  "  The  whole  school 
wants  and  needs  you." 

"  I'm  awfully  cut  up  about  it,  but  I  don't  see 
how  I  can."  John  spoke  sadly. 

"Then  the  manager  wants  you  to  sit  with  the 
boys  at  the  game  and  help  coach  them  on  the 
quiet  ;  you  can  encourage  them  a  lot,  you  know." 
Lambkin  played  his  last  card  for  the  sake  of 
Phillips. 

"Oh!  I  just  as  lief  sit  with  them,  or  keep 
score,  or  anything  of  that  kind.  The  nine  has 
got  to  win.  If  yelling  will  do  it  I'll  put  up  my 
share." 

"  You'll  be  sure  to  be  there,  won't  you  ? " 

Lambkin  put  a  hand  on  John's  biceps. 
"  You've  got  fine  muscle,"  he  added  musingly. 


234  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

"  I  hope  we'll  win.  The  boys  will  play  for  all 
they're  worth." 

"  Of  course  they  will.  I'll  be  there.  What 
Phillips  boy  won't  ?  " 

"  If  that's  all  I  can  get  out  of  you  I  guess  I'll 
go."  Lambkin,  dissatisfied  with  the  success  of 
his  mission,  left  the  room. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?     Play  !  " 

The  clear  voice  of  the  Harvard  umpire  rang 
out  like  a  cornet  upon  the  tumultuous  air.  The 
last  "  Rah  !  "  died  away  from  both  sides  and  left 
the  unnatural  stillness  of  mutual  expectation 
ready  to  be  hilariously  broken  by  the  side  that 
scored  the  first  advantage. 

By  an  oversight  on  the  part  of  the  weather 
bureau,  unexampled  in  the  history  of  Andover, 
it  did  not  rain  on  the  day  of  this  great  match. 
The  day  was  perfect.  It  was  warm,  and  truant 
clouds  veiled  the  glaring  sun  from  the  eyes  of  the 
players.  Ladies  were  gaily  perched  on  benches 
behind  the  high  board  fence  that  separated  the 
grounds  of  the  Principal's  house  from  the 
campus.  In  front  of  these  was  the  old  stage 


PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER.  235 

coach,  transformed  beyond  the  most  astute 
powers  of  recognition.  It  was  festooned  in 
blue  and  white,  Andover's  modest  colors,  and 
on  its  top  flags  waved  arid  horns  tooted  tremen- 
dously. Pete  was  in  his  element. 

"  I  wa'n't  a-goin'  to  drive  any  them  Exeter 
fellers  ;  Andover  boys  are  good  enough  for  me." 
And  in  recognition  of  this  superlative  patriotic 
sentiment,  considering  that  he  had  refused  a 
large  bonus  from  the  Exeter  contingency,  Pete 
was  feasted  with  ginger  pop  and  ice-cream  from 
Dal  Minton's  inexhaustible  stock,  to  his  com- 
plete and  inward  satisfaction. 

Directly  before  this  bannered  stage  the  An- 
dover boys  were  massed.  There  were  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty  of  them  trained  to  encourage 
their  nine  by  all  the  yells  known  to  school  inven- 
tion. Diagonally  opposite  them  on  the  right 
were  the  Exeter  boys.  They  were  all  there. 
Their  marshals,  with  batons  decorated  with  crim- 
son and  white,  kept  them  in  order.  They  had 
secured  two  barges,  one  of  which  held  a  band 
that  they  had  brought  with  them  to  celebrate 
their  confident  victory. 


236  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

The  blue  and  crimson  streamers  waved  defi- 
ance at  each  other.  But  now  fell  the  first  quiet 
—  now  the  game  had  begun.  A  thousand  un- 
blinking eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  players.  Ex- 
eter had  won  the  toss,  and  Andover  was  at  the 
bat. 

"  Sunshine  to  the  bat,  and  Lambkin  on 
deck  !  "  cried  the  official  scorer  for  the  Andover 
side. 

With  a  look  of  determination  the  captain  of 
the  nine,  the  winner  of  the  Draper  prize,  and 
since  that  winter  night  one  of  the  most  popular 
boys  in  school,  stepped  up.  Fierce  excitement 
was  in  his  face. 

"Now,"  cried  the  marshal  of  the  Andover 
crowd,  waving  his  stick  decorated  with  blue  and 
white,  "  now,  boys,  give  him  three  times  three 
and  a  tiger  !  " 

How  the  fellows  yelled.  But  Exeter  was  not 
outdone.  If  anything,  they  could  howl  the 
louder.  Amid  these  shrieks  that  were  as  im- 
portant a  part  of  the  game  as  the  ball  itself, 
the  umpire  cried : 

"Strike  one!" 


PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER.  237 

"  Hi-yi-yi-hoop-Bang-Ra-ra ! "  responded  the 
Exeter  gang  with  glee. 

"Ball  one"- 

"  Foul  —  Out!" 

Flags  of  crimson  waved  tumultuously  in  the 
deafened  air.  The  drums  from  Exeter's  barge 
beat  with  defiance  of  victory. 

"  Ugh  —  S  —  s  —  s  "  —  groaned  Andover. 
The  sound  expressed  derision  for  the  opponents 
and  hope  for  themselves. 

"  Lambkin  to  the  bat  !  " 

The  scorer  spoke  a  trifle  nervously  and  reached 
to  the  pail  for  a  tin  cup  of  water.  The  rest  of 
the  Andover  nine  sat  stolidly  upon  the  bench 
awaiting  their  turn. 

"  Ball,  one !  "  haughtily  spoke  the  Harvard 
umpire,  glancing  disdainfully  over  the  hooting 
rivals. 

"  Ah-h  !  Hurrah  !  Bully  for  you  !  run  her 
down  —  a  beauty  !  " 

The  Andover  boys  went  beside  themselves 
as  Lambkin  let  fly  right  over  second,  a  sure 
base  hit. 

"  Now   three    times    three    for    Lambkin  ! " 


238  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

shrieked  the  marshal,  hopping  up  and  down 
like  a  madman  before  the  line  of  boys  behind 
the  tight-strung  rope. 

"  Runner  out  !  "  quietly  the  umpire  decided. 
It  was  fearfully  close. 

"  Boom  !  "  went  a  great  torpedo  behind  Exe- 
ter's ranks  in  joyful  derision. 

"  A  nice  umpire  !  S  —  s  —  s  —  down  with 
the  umpire  !  "  yelled  the  Andover  crowd, 
thoroughly  disgusted. 

"  Shut  up,  boys  !  We'll  be  gentlemen,"  an- 
swered John  Strong  at  that  moment.  "  We'll 
teach  them,  boys  !  Let's  give  them  more  than 
fair  play  !  " 

The  traditions  of  Andover  are  all  opposed  to 
the  discourtesy  of  hissing  opponents  on  the 
athletic  field.  Once  in  a  while  her  boys  break 
away  from  this  unwritten  law  in  the  excitement 
of  close  rivalry.  But  such  spasms  of  ungentle- 
manliness  are  invariably  frowned  upon,  and 
always  will  be,  by  those  to  whom  the  honor  of 
"  Old  Phillips  "  is  dear. 

The  game  went  on.  We  cannot  chronicle 
each  hit  and  every  error.  Andover  went 


PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER.  239 

out  in  the  first  inning  double-quick  without 
scoring. 

When  Exeter  came  to  the  bat,  the  first  man 
led  off  with  a  base  hit.  Number  two  got  his 
base  on  balls.  Number  three  was  given  his 
base  by  being  hit  by  a  pitched  ball.  The  next 
man  went  out  on  a  foul.  So  did  the  next. 
Number  six  made  a  three-bagger  and  let  in  the 
three  on  the  bases.  He  then  got  put  out  on  an 
attempted  steal  to  home  plate. 

"  Score  3  to  o  in  favor  of  Exeter." 

By  this  time  Dal  Minton's  team  was  emptied 
by  the  Exeter  crowd  of  all  his  ginger  pop  and 
creams,  and  he  retired  satisfied  with  his  score 
on  that  day. 

In  the  first  of  the  second  inning  only  one 
Andover  man  got  to  third,  and  that  on  a  passed 
ball.  Exeter  then  came  in  and  added  one  more 
run  to  her  score. 

Third  inning.  Andover  hit  safely  and  freely 
for  bases,  but  were  forced  out.  They  might 
have  had  three  runs,  but  luck  was  against  them. 
By  this  time  Andover  had  begun  to  despair,  and 
three  hundred  faces  were  as  blue  as  their  ribbons. 


24O  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

Exeter  came  in  again  and  hit  Andover's 
pitcher  with  ease  for  five  base  hits,  but  good 
fielding  and  sharp  playing  held  them  down  to 
one  run.  Score,  Exeter  5,  Andover  o. 

The  fourth  and  fifth  innings  were  more  even. 
Exeter  hit  the  pitcher,  but  could  not  score.  An- 
dover neither  hit  nor  made  a  run.  At  the  last 
of  the  fifth  inning  Andover's  third  baseman 
was  hit  full  in  the  chest  by  a  terrific  drive.  He 
had  presence  of  mind  to  hold  the  ball  amid  en- 
thusiastic cheers.  Then  he  dropped.  The  um- 
pire called  time.  It  looked  as  if  Andover  were 
now  completely  demoralized.  Their  pitcher  had 
evidently  given  out.  He  was  almost  knocked 
out  of  the  box,  and  the  manager  and  the  captain 
consulted  while  the  wounded  man  was  moved 
off  the  field. 

John  Strong  had  felt  the  disgrace  of  defeat 
so  keenly  that  tears  of  mortification  blinded 
him.  Growls  of  disappointment  were  freely 
heard  along  the  Andover  line.  The  boys  had 
lost  the  art  of  cheering.  They  were  dis- 
heartened, and  wished  the  game  were  done  and 
the  misery  of  the  moment  over. 


PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER.  24! 

Now  the  Andover  manager  stepped  before 
that  line  of  gloomy  lads.  He  made  a  sign  with 
his  cane  and  then  dug  it  into  the  ground  to 
steady  himself  for  his  last  and  only  move.  He 
raised  his  voice  so  that  it  rang  over  the  field : 

"  The  third  baseman  is  forced  to  retire,  and 
Strong  will  substitute  and  pitch.  Lambkin  will 
catch.  Now,  boys,  give  the  Phillips  yell ! " 

Like  wildfire  the  announcement  inflamed  the 
school:  "  P-H-I-L-L-I-P-S  !  Ra  !  ra  !  ra  !  " 
Dignified  professors  and  delicate  ladies  joined 
in  this  time-honored  cry.  It  was  repeated 
three  times.  New  enthusiasm  caught  the  nine 
as  it  did  the  school. 

"  Now  three  times  three  for  Strong  ! " 

"  Ra-ra-ra !  Ra-ra-ra !  Ra-ra-ra  —  Strong  ! ' ' 
answered  the  line  madly. 

John  was  thus  artfully  committed  before  the 
whole  school. 

"But  how  can  I  —  I'm  not  a  substitute?" 
said  Strong  to  the  manager,  with  trembling 
lips.  He  was  amazed  beyond  measure  at  the 
manager's  audacity. 

"  O    yes,    you    are !      Your    name's    down  ! 


242  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

Never  mind  the  uniform.  Pitch  in  your  shirt 
sleeves.  Pitch  anyhow.  You've  got  to  do  it 
to  save  the  day." 

John  instinctively  glanced  at  the  seats  where 
the  Fern.  Sems.  sat,  a  conspicuous  row  of  loyally 
bedecked  girls  in  summer  dresses.  Miss  Elva 
Selfrich  sat  among  them,  sweet  and  fair.  One 
look  from  her  gentle  eyes  seemed  to  encourage 
him,  and  John  made  up  his  mind  at  once. 

The  Exeter  crowd,  not  knowing  what  this 
change  and  new  enthusiasm  meant,  answered, 
nothing  daunted  : 

"  Hoo  !  Ra  !  Ray  ! 

"  Hoo  !  Ra  !  Ray  ! 

"  Exeter —  Exeter — 

"P.  E.  A-a-af" 

"Time!  Are  you  ready?  Play  !"  sang  out 
the  umpire. 

Sunshine  led  again.  He  swung  the  bat  vi- 
ciously and  struck  the  ball. 

"  Ah  !   Eh  !     Boom-ta-ra  !  "  yelled  the  line. 

"  Now,  boys !  "  shouted  the  maniac  of  an 
Andover  marshal,  wild  at  this  unexpected  turn 
of  affairs. 


PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER.  243 

"  What  has  he  done?      What  has  he  done?" 

"  He  lined  it  out  for  base  number  one  !  " 

What  a  cry  that  was !  Three  hundred  throats 
repeated  it  until  exhausted.  Power  struck  the 
batsmen  and  they  pounded  the  ball.  At  the 
end  of  the  first  half  of  the  sixth  inning  the 
score  stood  5  to  3  in  favor  of  Exeter.  Andover 
had  recovered  her  pluck. 

At  last  John  Strong  faced  the  school,  the 
Exeter  batsman,  and  held  the  ball.  The  excite- 
ment was  intense.  Cheer  after  cheer  followed 
from  hoarse  throats. 

"  Boom-tah-rah-Boom-tah-rah-Boom  -  tah  - 
rah  —  Strong  !  "  The  shriek  died  away. 

"  High  ball,"  indicated  the  umpire. 

"  Strike  !  " 

No  one  had  time  to  think  ;  hardly  to  see. 

"  Strike,  two  !  " 

It  is  useless  to  attempt  to  describe  the  scene. 
While  the  catcher  was  putting  on  his  mask  and 
the  Exeter  batsman  was  moistening  his  hands 
and  shaking  his  bat  in  bewilderment,  the  An- 
dover lads  were  enthusiastically  repeating  in 
unison  at  the  top  of  their  lungs  : 


244  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

"  Now  let  him  be  ;  now  let  him  be" 
"  He'll  put  him  out  on  strike  mimber  three  !  " 
John  stood  with  shaking  legs,  the  central  fig- 
ure of  the  school.     He  thought  that  he  should 
fall.     He  thought  his  spine  would  collapse  at 
this  supreme  moment.     But  he  pulled  himself 
together  when  he  caught  Lambkin's  encourag- 
ing look  and  a  secret  sign  indicating  the  char- 
acter of  the  next  ball  to  be  pitched. 

The  sphere  sped  from  Strong's  hands.  It 
went  in  direct  line  for  the  batsman  who  jumped 
back  like  a  cat. 

"  Strike,  three  and  out !  "  rang  from  the  um- 
pire. 

The  ball  when  only  five  feet  from  the  base, 
described  a  wonderful  out-curve,  the  reason  of 
which  utterly  baffles  scientific  theorists,  and 
passed  over  to  the  edge  of  the  home  plate.  It 
was  now  Exeter's  turn  to  be  discouraged.  Their 
school  shouts  were  not  diminished,  but  they 
were  executed  in  a  perfunctory  way  simply  to 
drown  Andover  out.  The  Harvard  umpire 
gave  John  a  keen  glance  as  the  boy  walked 
with  a  perceptible  limp  to  the  bench. 


PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER.  245 

In  the  seventh  inning  Andover  made  two 
more  runs  —  such  is  the  impetus  of  enthusiasm 
—  and  Exeter  was  tied.  In  the  second  half  of 
the  inning  John  held  Exeter  down  to  one  hit 
and  no  score.  The  eighth  inning  passed,  each 
side  getting  only  a  "goose  egg."  John  held  to 
it  pluckily,  but  was  evidently  reserving  his 
strength  for  the  final  inning. 

Matters  were  as  serious  as  they  can  be  in  a 
ball-game  when  Andover  went  to  bat  at-the  first 
of  the  ninth  inning.  The  two  schools  were  ex- 
hausted, and  contented  themselves  with  local 
cries  along  the  line.  They  settled  for  the  con- 
test. Strong  was  the  last  batter  on  the  score, 
and  now  stepped  to  bat  for  the  first  time.  He 
was  not  used  to  this.  The  school  knew  it  as 
well  as  he,  and  fully  expected  him  to  strike  out. 
But  the  pitcher,  not  knowing  but  that  Strong 
batted  as  he  pitched,  threw  the  ball  warily. 

"One  strike.     Five  balls  !"  called  the  umpire. 

"Take  it  easy,  John.  Don't  strike.  He  won't 
pitch  over  the  plate.  He  can't,"  whispered 
Lambkin. 

But  the  Exeter  pitcher,  seeing  that  he  had  but 


246  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

one  more  "called  ball,"  sent  an  easy  one  right 
over  the  base.  John  saw  it  coming  and  swung 
the  bat  as  never  before.  To  the  surprise  of 
everybody  the  ball  flew  over  the  third  baseman's 
head  and  rolled  far  beyond.  For  any  one  else 
it  would  have  been  a  "  clean  two-bagger." 

"  Run  her  easy,  John,"  shrieked  the  "coach." 
"  They  can't  get  you.  There  you  are  !  " 

"  Safe  on  first !  "  cried  the  umpire,  as  John 
landed  on  the  bag  about  two  seconds  before  the 
ball  was  fielded  in. 

"  Dalstan,  take  his  place  and  run  him," 
ordered  the  captain  ;  and  John  retired  with  all 
the  added  honor  of  an  unexpected  hit. 

Sunshine  came  to  bat.  Dalstan,  who  had 
taken  John's  place,  now  stole  second.  None 
out,  one  on  second.  The  chances  were  strongly 
in  favor  of  a  score. 

"  Strike  two  ! "  cried  the  umpire  above  the 
din,  after  Sunshine  had  made  two  ineffectual 
attempts.  Batsmen  often  make  the  mistake  of 
trying  to  strike  the  ball  too  hard.  Sunshine 
fell  into  that  common  error  in  the  excitement 
of  responsibility. 


PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 


"  Whew  !  Ra-ra-ra  —  Sunshine  !  "  What  a 
clear  hit  that  was  !  Dalstan  came  shooting  in 
over  the  home  plate  like  a  locomotive. 

Led  by  the  marshal,  Andover  shrieked  from 
its  raw  throat  : 

"  What  did  he  do  f      What  did  he  do?" 

"  He  lined  it  out  for  base  number  two!  " 

Only  he  who  has  been  present  at  one  of  those 
match  games,  the  memory  of  which  still  sends 
the  blood  surging  through  the  veins  after  years 
of  absence  from  school,  can  understand  the  tri- 
umph of  such  a  unanimous  cry. 

In  the  confusion  Lambkin  stepped  up  and 
"  flied  out  "  to  right  field.  Sunshine  stole  third. 
The  next  man  fouled  out,  and  Number  four  was 
thrown  out  at  first. 

Score  at  the  end  of  the  first  of  the  ninth  in- 
ning 6  to  5  in  favor  of  Andover. 

But  the  game  was  not  yet  won.  Exeter  had 
still  her  turn  at  the  bat.  She  might  tie  or  win. 
With  roars,  cat-calls,  whistles,  the  beating  of 
drums  and  tooting  of  horns,  Exeter  encouraged 
her  nine  to  meet  the  crisis.  Andover  was  not 
behind  in  her  vociferations.  Each  Academy 


248  PHILLIPS     VS.     EXETER. 

shouted  its  school  yell  in  opposition  to  the 
other.  The  crimson  strode  to  the  bat.  John 
Strong  in  the  pitcher's  box,  faced  his  opponent 
at  this  crisis.  His  face  was  a  deadly  pallor. 

"  Low  ball !  Play  !  "  shouted  the  umpire,  try- 
ing to  keep  up  the  show  of  superior  coolness 
in  this  final  struggle. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE    VICTORY. 

ROGER  MANSFIELD,  by  virtue  of  his 
being  a  member  of  Phillips  Academy 
(for  the  Board  of  Trustees  being  the  same, 
theologues  in  the  technical  sense  are  only 
Academy  boys  in  a  later  and  therefore  more 
highly  developed  state),  and  also  by  reason  of 
his  ability  to  catch  "  flies,"  was  a  member  of 
the  nine,  and  played  center  field. 

As  he  took  his  position  in  the  field  well  back 
of  second  base,  he  was  not  far  from  the  fence 
that  bounded  that  side  of  the  old  campus.  John 
Calvin  was  no  uninterested  spectator  and  barked 
approbation  with  unwavering  and  undiminishing 
enthusiasm,  whenever  his  master's  side  made 
a  fine  play. 

When  this  contest  began,  Calvin  was  ordered 
on  top  of  the  fence,  not  far  behind  Roger,  where 
249 


25O  THE     VICTORY. 

he  could  inspect  the  game,  squatting  on  his 
haunches  with  rapt  intelligence. 

At  the  moment 'when  the  umpire  shouted  his 
decisive  "Play  !  "  an  instantaneous  photograph 
might  have  been  taken  of  the  nine  as  they  con- 
centrated their  energy  in  a  strained  and  motion- 
less rigidity.  Thirty  feet  behind  the  bat  was 
Lambkin,  standing  stiffly  bent  at  the  knees 
ready  for  the  ball.  Every  muscle  was  in  ex- 
cited repose.  John  Strong  faced  him,  the 
blood  now  surging  back  to  his  ears  and  temples. 
He  was  bent  forward  and  both  hands  held  the 
impatient  ball  at  his  right  hip.  Sunshine,  the 
captain,  guarded  first  base  and  intently  eyed  the 
batsman.  Behind  him  Exeter  yells  endeavored 
to  disconcert  his  play,  but  he  did  not  hear  them. 
He  watched  his  men  and  the  ball.  Dalstan,  the 
base  runner,  played  short  stop,  and  with  legs 
astride  and  hands  at  his  mouth  he  waited  for 
his  chance.  Far  behind  was  Mansfield,  whose 
height  and  tremendous  reach  seemed  to  the  boys 
sufficient  to  wrench  a  meteorite  from  the  heavens. 

"  Strike —  one  !  "  The  sound  of  the  umpire's 
decision  smote  Exeter  ominously. 


THE     VICTORY.  25! 

"Don't  yell,  boys,  yet,"  cried  the  Andover 
marshal.  "  Don't  break  him  up  !  " 

"Ball,  one!" 

Neither  side  uttered  a  sound.  Each  fixed  his 
eyes  on  its  representative  and  hardly  breathed. 

"  Strike,  two  !  "  The  umpire  marked  the 
ground  with  his  cane. 

"  Now,  boys,  all  together.  Rata  — to — thrat !  " 
shrieked  the  Andover  marshal.  And  the  en- 
thusiasm that  had  been  pent  up  for  fully  five 
minutes  thundered  in  the  air. 

"  Rata  —  to  thrat  —  to  thrat  —  to  thrat ! 

Tara  —  to  lix  —  to  lix  —  to  lix  ! 

Kick-a  bah  —  bah  !   Kick-a  —  bah  —  bah  ! 

Andover,  Andover,  Rah-rah-rah  !  Stro-ong!  " 

"  Exeter  —  Exeter  —  Ra-ra-ra  !  "  repeated 
the  opposing  faction  in  antiphony. 

"Ball,  two!" 

"  Striker  out  !  " 

Who  can  describe  how  many  times  the  "long 
Phillips  "  was  given  ?  The  Exeter  batsman  threw 
his  stick  away  in  disgust  and  strode  with  a  black 
face  to  his  bench.  One  out.  The  next  player 
at  the  bat;  and  the  umpire  called  "high  ball." 


252  THE     VICTORY. 

The  sphere  left  Strong's  hands  like  a  musket 
shot.  It  sped  straight  for  the  plate.  There 
was  no  curve  in  it.  Exeter  struck.  He  hit. 
See  the  ball  rise  !  How  he  runs  for  his  base  in 
the  first  mad  applause  from  Exeter  !  The  ball 
flew  a  hundred  feet  in  the  air,  over  second. 
Every  one  watched  it  breathlessly  in  its  flight. 
Roger  turned  about  and  ran  back  with  all  his 
might.  Which  would  get  there  first,  the. ball  or 
the  theologue  ?  Like  an  arrow  it  hissed  through 
the  air  straight  for  the  fence. 

John  Calvin  eyed  the  approaching  missile. 
He  had  been  taught  to  play  ball,  too,  and  was 
accustomed  to  catch  in  his  large  jaws.  The 
dog  measured  the  distance  like  a  general  with 
his  eye  and  rose  to  his  fore  legs. 

"  Out  of  the  way,  you  brute  !  "  shrieked 
Roger. 

The  theologue  jumped.  So  did  the  dog. 
One  stretched  out  a  hand ;  the  other  opened 
his  mouth  agape.  The  disputed  ball  descended, 
and  all  three  fell  to  the  ground. 

Out  from  the  mltte  a  hand  appeared  — 
"  mystic,  wonderful,"  holding  the  ball ;  but  this 


THE    VICTORY.  255 

was  hidden  from  the  spectators  by  the  jaws  of 
John  Calvin  which  had  closed  about  the  fist 
instead  of  the  ball  itself. 

"The  dog's  got  it !  "  shrieked  Exeter's  coach. 
"  Run  her  down  to  third." 

"  Hoo-ray,  hoo-ray  !  "  roared  the  Exeter 
crowd. 

"  I  caught  it  —  he's  out  !  "  thundered  Roger 
from  his  uncomfortable  position.  He  did  not 
move  a  muscle. 

The  umpire  hurried  to  the  scene.  It  was 
almost  an  impossibility  for  Roger  to  hold  the 
ball ;  but  there  it  was.  John  Calvin  had  in 
the  meanwhile  relaxed  his  grip  of  his  master's 
fist  and  now  licked  it  tenderly,  and  wagged  his 
tail  pleasantly  as  the  umpire  approached. 

"  I  got  the  ball  first.  The  dog  closed  on  the 
hand  by  mistake.  See  his  teeth  along  the 
knuckles.  The  ball  never  touched  his  mouth  or 
the  ground." 

Roger  showed  the  marks  of  teeth.  His  hand 
bled  freely.  The  evidence  was  complete. 

"  Striker  out,"  cried  the  umpire  with  decision. 

Then  Roger  arose,  tossed  the  ball  to  second, 


256  THE    VICTORY. 

and  resumed  his  position  amid  all  the  whoopings, 
bawlings  and  bellowings  which  were  left  on  the 
Andover  side,  in  recognition  of  his  wonderful 
catch. 

"  I  protest,"  the  captain  of  the  Exeter  nine 
faced  the  umpire  with  quivering  lip,  "unless  the 
dog  is  a  member  of  the  nine  in  good  and  regu- 
lar standing." 

"  Play  ball,"  said  the  umpire,  motioning  to 
the  next  batter  to  take  his  position. 

"But  I  protest!"  said  the  Exeter  captain  in 
white  heat.  "  He  took  the  ball  from  the  dog's 
mouth." 

The  umpire,  the  Harvard  Junior,  the  captain 
of  the  Harvard  'Varsity,  who  with  difficulty  had 
left  his  own  nine  to  umpire  this  game,  turned 
sharply  to  the  threatening  lad. 

"  Look  here,  you  go  to  your  place  and  order 
your  players  up  and  don't  waste  time.  I  decide 
as  well  as  I  know  how.  He  caught  the  ball  and 
the  player  was  out.  The  dog  didn't  get  there 
quite  soon  enough.  He  meant  to,  but  didn't 
have  the  practice.  Now  play  ball." 

"  Two   men   out.      None   on   bases ;     watch 


THE     VICTORY. 


sharp  !  "  said  the  Andover  captain  cheerily. 
Then  John  recovered  himself  for  the  final  throws. 
These  were  wonderful  exhibitions  of  trained 
accuracy  and  skill. 

"  Strike,  one." 

Lambkin  smiled  knowingly  and  rubbed  his 
hands  together  in  a  peculiar  way. 

"S  —  s  —  s  —  "  hissed  Exeter  in  vain  at- 
tempts to  break  John  up. 

"  Strike,  two  !  " 

Not  a  sound  came  from  Andover.  One  more 
pitch  might  decide  the  game.  Hats  were  slowly 
taken  off  to  hurl  in  the  air.  The  boys  crowded 
closer  together.  The  electric  excitement  thrilled 
them.  Many  shivered  ;  some  cried  ;  but  none 
spoke  a  word. 

John  Strong  was  deliberate.  He  stooped  and 
rolled  the  ball  in  the  dirt  and  patted  it.  His 
lips  moved  and  his  eyes  were  cast  down.  His 
emotion  was  great.  Uncle  Jim  regarded  him 
from  a  distance,  vainly  trying  to  hide  his  in- 
terest. Another  pair  of  eyes  followed  the 
pitcher's  motions.  These  peered  out  from 
under  a  blue  sunshade  tied  with  blue  ribbons. 


258  THE     VICTORY. 

"  O,  Elva  !     Will  he  do  it  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  of  course  he  will." 

"  Strike,  three,  and  OUT  !  " 

The  umpire's  work  was  done.  The  pent-up 
roar  broke  forth,  and  like  a  torrent  hundreds 
hurled  themselves  across  the  line  and  rushed  to 
the  victorious  players. 

"  Andover,  Andover,  Rah-rah-nz/z  /  " 

"  Three  times  three  for  Exeter  !  "  cried  Sun- 
shine to  his  nine. 

It  is  useless  to  say  that  the  school  joined  in 
the  courteous  'rahs  with  a  proud  vim. 

"Up  with  them!"  shouted  all  the  boys. 
"  Take  the  horses  out  and  we'll  pull  them  through 
the  town  !  "  Excited  groups  each  grabbed  a 
player. 

"  Easy  with  Strong  there !  "  yelled  Lambkin. 
"  Remember  he's  lame." 

So  Andover  won  the  great  game,  and  Strong 
won  the  day. 

"  Give  you  ten  dollars  for  your  band,"  shouted 
a  half-dozen  exultant  students  to  the  Exeter  del- 
egates, whose  drums  and  trumpets  were  sullenly 
silent.  These  defeated  boys  had  huddled  to- 


THE     VICTORY.  259 

gether  and  seemed  disposed  for  a  rush.  Full 
fifty  Andover  fellows  grasped  the  rope  and 
pulled  the  old  barge  from  the  campus,  and  John 
Strong,  who  on  his  first  appearance  in  Andover 
had  been  denied  entrance  to  this  time-honored 
vehicle,  now  sat  on  the  top  seat,  the  most  pop- 
ular, the  most  honored  boy  in  the  Academy. 

After  all  this,  the  supper,  and  then  the  bon- 
fire and  the  procession,  the  speeches  from  the 
delighted  Faculty. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Uncle  Jim  when  his  turn 
had  come,  "  I  am  proud  of  your  bones  and  your 
muscles.  You've  trained  these  well  ;  but  it  is 
only  a  half  of  life;  now  give  your  brains  a 
chance."  And  John  Strong  thought  that  the 
disciplinarian  looked  at  him,  and  he  was  sad. 

"Now,  boys,  one  for  Uncle  Jim  !"  shouted  a 
voice  from  the  center  of  the  crowd,  and  then 
started  the  familiar  strain  which  was  caught  up 
by  the  mass  and  repeated  in  stentorious  unison  : 

"All  flesh  is  grass,  some  people  say, 
Then  Uncle  Jim's  a  load  of  hay." 

The  great  Principal  bowed  his  acknowledg- 


26O  THE     VICTORY. 

ment  to  the  obvious  compliment,  and  the  boys, 
delighted  at  the  urbanity  of  their  dreaded  mas- 
ter, broke  into  another  anthem,  that  referred  to 
a  famous  and  unpunished  escapade  some  years 
old: 

"  If  Uncle  could  catch  'em, 
Wouldn't  he  whale  'em, 
Those  fellows  that  stole 
The  guide-post  to  Salem." 

Again  Uncle  Jim  bowed,  and  the  young  men, 
having  paid  their  proper  respects,  with  their 
torches,  horns  and  drums,  passed  on  to  the  next 
house  to  call  out  a  congratulatory  Professor  and 
another  speech. 

That  evening  late,  when  John  sat  in  his  bare 
room,  now  so  dear  to  him  because  he  was  to 
leave  it  soon,  he  heard  people  speaking  outside, 
asking  for  him.  Raising  the  front  windows  he 
looked  out. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Strong,  I  was  looking  for  you,"  said 
a  voice  which  he  easily  recognized  as  belonging 
to  the  umpire  of  the  day.  The  Harvard  athlete 


THE    VICTORY.  26l 

refused  to  come  in,  and  lighting  a  cigarette 
leaned  thoughtfully  on  the  window-sill. 

"  Are  you  going  to  college,  Mr.  Strong  ?  " 

"I  don't  know;  I  hope  so,"  replied  John 
sadly. 

"  Harvard  is  a  good  place  for  you,"  suggested 
the  Cambridge  man  lightly. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  to  Harvard  above  all 
places." 

"  If  you  are  poor  I  know  how  you  can  sup- 
port yourself  easily  at  Harvard,"  continued  the 
Junior. 

"  How  ? " 

"  The  fellows  never  let  a  man  starve  who  can 
pitch  like  you.  Come  and  try  for  the  nine. 
You're  safe  for  it.  There  are  very  few  who  can 
pitch  as  cleverly  as  you  do,  and  it  is  a  great 
thing  for  a  Freshman  to  get  on  the  'Varsity. 
You'd  better  come.  I'm  captain  and  will  see 
you  through.  You'll  be  able  to  get  support  ; 
never  fear.  Will  you  promise?" 

"  No  !  "  answered  John,  after  a  moment's  bit- 
ter thought.  "  I  want  to  go  to  Harvard  ;  but  I 
go  there  to  study,  not  to  play  ball.  It  takes 


262  THE     VICTORY. 

too  much  time  ;  I  can't  afford  it.  I  didn't  train 
to  pitch  to-day.  It's  my  only  exercise.  I  didn't 
mean  to.  They  made  me.  I  thank  you,  sir  ; 
you  are  kind.  But  I  can't  support  myself  by 
ball!" 

The  good-natured  Junior  strolled  away  and 
told  several  fellows  laughingly  what  a  jack  that 
phenomenal  pitcher  of  theirs  was  to  refuse  such 
a  chance  at  Harvard.  But  the  idea  haunted  John 
Strong  during  those  last  few  and  precious  days 
of  school  life. 

At  last  the  coveted  honors  had  been  distrib- 
uted, and  John  Strong,  who  had  taken  no  exer- 
cise of  any  sort  since  the  momentous  game, 
looked  haggard  enough  to  excite  pity  after  the 
announcement.  His  share  had  only  been  a 
tenth  oration,  "  a  very  respectable  position  in- 
deed for  one  who  went  into  athletics  and  that 
sort  of  thing,"  said  the  under-classmen  looking 
admiringly  at  him.  The  unusual  combination 
of  scholar  and  ball-player  in  one  seemed  to  them 
heroic,  one  might  say  Homeric  ;  but  his  class- 
mates and  especially  Lambkin  began  to  suspect 


THE     VICTORY.  263 

that  their  new  Senior  deserved  a  much  higher 
position. 

No  one  was  now  prompter  and  more  accurate 
in  the  exhausting  and  final  reviews  than  Strong. 
The  confinement  due  to  this  last  vindicating  spurt 
told  upon  the  boy  and  the  sympathies  of  the  class. 
The  teachers  of  Latin  and  Greek,  and  even  Un- 
cle Jim  himself  had  been  seen  to  look  upon  John 
compassionately  ;  at  least,  so  the  more  observant 
students  thought.  But  John  was  unconscious 
of  all  this  and  worked  with  a  heavy  heart,  strug- 
gling bravely  to  hide  the  bitterest  disappoint- 
ment he  had  ever  had.  John  suffered  during 
these  days.  The  poor  fellow  forgot  that  the 
moral  grandeur  of  self-sacrifice  and  the  salvation 
of  health  were  compensation  enough  for  nominal 
rank.  He  felt  sore,  and  hurt,  and  misunderstood. 

"Come  in  !  "  The  big  voice  echoed  through- 
out the  brick  building  known  as  the  Principal's 
house. 

John  Strong  walked  slowly  in  and  stood  be- 
fore the  desk.  Uncle  Jim  had  merely  glanced 
up  and  now  bent  to  his  work  for  a  moment.  John 


264  THE    VICTORY. 

waited.  At  last  the  leonine  head  shook  itself 
and  turned  upward  toward  the  Senior's  face. 

"  I  have  finished  raking  the  garden,  sir,  and 
the  bulbs  are  all  planted  out.  What  shall  I  go 
at  now  ?  "  John  still  did  promiscuous  work  for 
Uncle  Jim  at  three  dollars  per  week  and  had 
amply  earned  the  sum  that  paid  his  board. 

"Your  health  is  better  than  when  you  came," 
said  the  Principal,  taking  him  in  critically  from 
top  to  toe. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Base-ball  did  you  good,  sir!" 

"Yes,  sir,"  firmly. 

"  Your  rank  in  school  is  creditable.  Your 
work  this  term  has  been  satisfactory." 

"I  hope  so,  sir."  John  wondered  what  was 
coming. 

"  You  have  done  well,  but  you  might  have 
stood  better  in  the  class.  I  have  nothing  to  say. 
My  work  has  been  conscientiously  attended  to." 

"I  am  glad,  sir." 

"  You  will  need  all  your  time  from  now  on, 
and  you  are  excused  from  work  with  me  from 
to-day." 


THE     VICTORY.  265 

"  I  am  willing  —  I  want  to  go  on,"  gasped 
John. 

"Certainly,  sir,  I  understand,  but  your  pay 
will  continue  just  the  same.  I  employ  you  to 
work  for  yourself." 

"Thank  you  —  you  are  too  kind,  but  I'd 
rather  "  — 

"Tut,  tut,  tut  !  is  there  anything  more? " 

John  plucked  up  courage. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  about  the  scholarship 
at  Harvard  you  promised  to  look  up  for  me.  I 
must  have  something  to  depend  on.  I  haven't 
a  cent." 

The  boy  bit  his  lips  to  control  his  emotion. 
His  whole  future  seemed  to  hang  upon  the  Prin- 
cipal's help.  John  knew  little  about  "  pulling 
wires  "  to  help  himself.  He  had  no  influential 
friends.  He  didn't  know  how  to  get  the  college 
assistance  which  he  must  have  to  start  him  along. 
If  Uncle  Jim  failed  him,  hope  was  gone.  The 
beads  of  perspiration  stood  out  upon  his  broad 
forehead.  The  Principal  eyed  him  keenly,  but 
his  heart  hardened  within  him.  He  still  dis- 
trusted a  boy  who  pitched  like  the  wind.  The 


266  THE     VICTORY. 

lad  before  him  should  have  given  up  ball  and 
stood  at  least  second  in  his  class.  He  had  the 
ability,  and  therefore  ought  to  have  done  it. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Strong,  that  I  am  not  able 
at  present  to  help  you  in  this.  There  are  so 
many  applications  for  the  limited  number  of 
scholarships  that  "  — 

The  great  doctor  blinked  and  started  from 
his  chair.  Without  a  word,  the  boy  before  him, 
tortured  almost  beyond  the  power  of  conceal- 
ment, turned,  leaving  the  Principal  in  the  midst 
of  his  explanations,  and  rushed  out  of  the  house. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

GOOD-BY. 

CONACOOT,  N.  H.,  June —  18  — 

MY  DEAR  SON: 
How  can  I  write  it?     Do  you  think  it  is  wise  to 
make  preparations  to  be  away  from  me  next  year  ? 
I  cannot  tell  you  now  all  of  the  pain  it  gives  me  to  say  that 
your  mother  needs  you.     Her  strength  is   almost  exhausted 
with  the  lonely  struggle.     You  know  I  would  bear  all  I  could 
to  help  you  through,  but  I  do  not,  I  cannot  earn  enough  to 
buy  my  food  and  I  am  becoming  feebler  every  day.     A  loving 
welcome  awaits  my  brave  boy  when  he  comes. 

MOTHER. 

John  Strong  read  this  letter  as  he  walked 
from  the  post-office  through  Main  Street,  up  the 
hill,  past  the  huge  brick  Academy  building  to 
his  room.  Never  before  had  Andover  Hill 
seemed  so  steep  or  so  long.  He  panted  past 
the  big,  white  boarding-house  on  the  corner  of 
Main  and  Phillips  Streets,  kept  at  that  time  by 
the  most  kind-hearted  landlady  Andover  ever 
267 


268  GOOD-BY. 

knew.  None  mothered  the  homeless  Commons 
boys  as  she  did.  Now  that  hospitable  building 
is  gone  to  make  room  for  the  house  of  the  genial 
Professor  of  elocution.  John  stopped  at  the 
pump  beyond,  for  a  drink  to  moisten  his  fever- 
ish lips.  He  hurried  to  his  house,  scuttled  into 
his  room,  locked  the  door,  and  pulled  down  the 
cambric  curtains. 

John  mechanically  put  his  elbows  on  his  knees 
and  the  palms  of  his  hands  on  his  forehead  and 
bent  to  the  blow.  He  could  not  believe  it.  It 
was  too  much.  It  was  too  cruel.  He  had 
thoughts  of  managing  and  hopes  of  getting  to 
college  somehow.  But  his  mother!  "Poor, 
poor  mother ! "  he  said  this  to  himself  over  and 
over  again.  He  had  never  dreamed  but  that 
she  would  go  on  just  the  same  as  ever.  What 
a  thoughtless  boy  he  had  been  !  Poor,  poor 
mother  !  Her  poverty,  her  loneliness,  her  suf- 
fering pricked  him  to  the  heart.  And  this  was 
the  end  of  the  whole  story. 

However  deeply  a  disappointment  cuts,  a  live 
boy  rarely  needs  hospital  treatment  and  liga- 
tures to  heal  the  wound.  John  turned  immedi- 


GOOD-BY.  269 

ately  to  his  oration  which  was  to  be  delivered 
in  a  very  few  days.  He  was  comforted  that  his 
theme  happened  to  be  "The  dynamic  force  of 
duty."  Here  was  a  chance  for  him  to  become 
a  working  example  of  his  fine  theories  and  to 
resolve  himself  into  a  silent  power.  John 
accepted  this  opportunity  with  more  than  usual 
self-control.  Most  people  love  to  talk  about 
their  misfortunes.  John  craved  sympathy  with 
his  whole  nature,  but  he  shrank  from  burdening 
others  with  a  story  that,  as  he  thought,  would 
prove  uninteresting  and  even  tedious. 

So  when,  during  the  last  days  of  school,  he 
was  asked  what  college  he  intended  to  elect, 
he  invariably  answered  that  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  spend  the  next  year  at  home.  He 
added  no  reasons.  Lambkin  alone  understood 
the  situation  and  guarded  his  friend's  confidence, 
feeling  as  he  did  so,  savagely  impotent  before 
a  desperately  hard  and  insoluble  problem. 

It  was  under  that  superb  Gothic  arch  of  over- 
hanging elms  that  John  Strong  for  the  last  time 
in  his  Senior  career  met  Elva  Selfrich  ;  this 
was  a  day  or  two  after  he  had  received  his 


2/O  GOOD-BY. 

mother's  letter.  The  two  had  not  seen  each 
other  since  the  ball  game.  Involuntarily  both 
stopped  and  shook  hands.  John  felt  almost  as 
if  she  were  an  old  friend.  They  walked  for  a 
few  yards  under  the  whispering  aisle  looking 
down  toward  the  white  spires  of  Lawrence  that' 
formed  the.  vista  between  the  pillared  elms  far 
beyond. 

"  And  what  college  will  you  go  to  this  fall  ?  " 
asked  his  companion  with  a  grave  smile. 

"  None,"  answered  John  simply. 

"Why  not  ?  You  ought  to  go,"  said  the  girl 
impulsively. 

"  Yes,"  the  boy  spoke  slowly,  "  I  am  sorry, 
but  it  can't  be  helped.  My  mother  needs  me. 
I  am  afraid  she  has  suffered  this  year.  We  are 
too  poor  for  college.  I  must  take  care  of  her 
first." 

John  looked  tenderly  up  at  those  magnificent 
boughs  as  if  to  impress  their  beauty  upon  his 
memory  for  the  last  time.  The  two. stopped  at 
the  cross  path  that  leads  one  way  to  the  Semi- 
nary buildings,  the  other  towards  Latin  Com- 
mons. But  the  girl  was  breaking  rules.  She 


GOOD-BY.  271 

must  not  walk  with  an  Academy  boy  in  the 
street,  and  she  lingered  at  the  turn  of  the  path, 
prettily  intimating  that  they  must  part. 

"  Have  you  told  Mr.  Mansfield  about  it?"  in- 
quired Miss  Elva  anxiously. 

"  O  no !  he  can't  help.  He  mustn't  be 
bothered  with  my  affairs  ;  he's  done  enough 
already." 

John  reluctantly  turned  to  go. 

"  Mr.  Strong,  I  don't  know  when  I  may  see 
you  again,"  said  Elva  Selfrich  a  little  sadly. 
"  I  can't  stay  till  the  end  of  the  term,  but  I  am 
coming  back  to  finish  next  year.  My  father 
has  had  me  excused  to  go  home.  We  are  go- 
ing to  take  a  little  trip  out  West  with  my 
brother,  father  and  I,  and  leave  him  there,  if 
father  can  find  a  good  business.  Dick  is  trying 
to  do  well,  and  father  says  we  must  encourage 
him  all  we  can.  He  says  his  whole  life  may 
depend  on  it.  I  think,"  added  Elva  hesitat- 
ingly, "Dick  is  sorry  for  what  he  did  to  you." 
The  girl  started  to  go,  and  turned  impetuously. 
"You  are  a  noble  fellow  and  I  know  you  will 
succeed  splendidly  somehow." 


2/2  GOOD-BY. 

Elva  Selfrich  without  another  look  turned 
and  walked  hurriedly  away,  seeming  half- 
ashamed  of  herself  as  if  she  had  said  a  forward, 
unmaidenly  thing.  But  John's  heart  took  great 
courage  because  this  beautiful  and  modest  girl 
believed  so  thoroughly  in  him. 

To  a  Phillips  Senior  the  last  days  of  the  last 
term  trip  like  a  bustling  dream.  The  excite- 
ment spreads  beyond  the  Academy  walls  into 
the  sleepy  old  town  and  wakes  it  with  an  ac- 
ceptable vengeance.  The  Principal,  with  his 
corps  of  teachers  and  tutors,  rush  the  final  ex- 
aminations, to  the  terror  of  the  whole  school, 
and  engineer  the  commencement  ceremonies, 
both  indispensable  adjuncts  to  the  close  of  a 
dignified  and  renowned  fitting  Academy.  At 
this  time  Preps,  aspire  to  the  responsibility  of 
the  Junior  Middle  year ;  Junior  Middlers  begin 
to  acquire  the  dignity  of  upper  class  men  ;  Mid- 
dlers strut  with  all  the  airs  that  the  privileges 
of  approaching  seniority  cast  upon  them  ;  while 
the  Seniors,  with  the  exception  of  the  inevitable 
unlucky  shirk  or  dunce  who  is  dropped  at  the 


GOOD-BY.  2/3 

eleventh  hour,  consider  themselves  as  actual 
rather  than  potential  P.  A.  Alumni,  and  already 
behave  like  college  Freshmen.  Only  to  John 
Strong,  the  broader  life  seemed  unwilling  to 
open.  He  felt  like  a  marionette  that  had  been 
taken  from  its  box  and  allowed  one  brief  action 
upon  the  eager  stage,  and  then  shut  up  again 
and  the  lid  fastened  down,  who  knows  for  how 
long  a  season  ? 

John  passed  these  last  days  as  a  conscious 
somnambulist  might  have  done.  He  had  little 
feeling,  but  much  automatic  motion.  His  ab- 
straction was  remarked  upon  by  his  classmates 
who  also  noticed  that  his  lameness  increased  ; 
they  attributed  it  to  the  heavy  strain  of  the 
great  Exeter  game.  Lambkin  looked  at  him 
and  wondered  whether  this  last  blow  would  put 
him  out  at  the  home  plate  or  not.  This  devoted 
friend  never  left  John  except  when  he  had  to. 
They  walked  arm  in  arm  to  the  Milktoast  Club, 
where  the  food  began  to  "brace  up  "  in  propor- 
tion as  the  days  of  the  term  grew  few  ;  they 
sauntered  to  recitation  together  and  sat  in  each 
other's  rooms,  and  the  elder  boy  heard  the 


274  GOOD-BY. 

other's  oration  and  gave  his  few  valuable  criti- 
cisms as  a  last  friendly  office.  John  Strong  was 
grateful  for  these  attentions,  but  puzzled  old 
Lambkin  considerably  by  maintaining  a  cheer- 
ful, uncommunicative  silence  about  his  future 
affairs.  . 

The  fact  is,  John  was  at  his  wit's  ends.  He 
was  terribly  short  of  money.  There  were  a  few 
term  debts,  such  as  laundry,  clothing  and  books, 
that  must  be  paid,  and  after  he  had  given  his 
weekly  earnings  for  his  board  he  was  literally 
bankrupt.  He  hadn't  even  a  new  coat  to  speak 
in  on  the  commencement  stage  ;  of  course  not. 
How  could  he  afford  it  ?  So  he  mended  and 
inked  his  old  black  one  up  and  laid  it  away 
carefully  for  the  final  exhibition.  He  had  but 
two  coats,  two  vests  and  one  pair  of  trousers. 

"  Mr.  Locks,"  he  said  the  day  before  the  ex- 
hibition, "  I  want  you  to  buy  back  everything  I 
got  of  you  last  year.  What  will  you  give  me 
for  the  lot  ?  " 

Mr.  Locks  knew  everything  about  the  Com- 
mons boys  and  all  the  school  gossip.  Every 
well-regulated  janitor  has  at  least  those  accom- 


GOOD-BY.  275 

plishments  due  to  almost  miraculous  ubiquity. 
He  was  really  troubled  about  John's  poverty 
and  his  pathetic  struggle.  The  keeper  of  Com- 
mons laughed  in  an  off-hand  way,  swinging  his 
bunch  of  keys  with  a  pleasant  jingle. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Strong,  I'll  give  you 
ten  dollars  for  the  lot  and  you  hand  me  the  keys 
to  your  room  when  you  go.  We'll  be  sorry  to 
lose  you  ;  I'll  miss  you,  Mr.  Strong." 

"  But  I  didn't  pay  much  more  than  that,"  in- 
sisted John,  thinking  the  astute  dealer  had  made 
a  mistake. 

Mr.  Locks,  who  was  likely  to  make  all  that 
was  good  for  him  out  of  the  graduating  class, 
replied  : 

"  I  guess  you  hadn't  better  say  anything 
more  ;  a  bargain's  a  bargain.  You  take  this  ten 
dollar  bill  —  there !  You  ain't  hurt  these  things 
a  mite.  You  sing  out  when  you  go  an'  I'll  help 
you  if  I  have  the  time." 

The  janitor,  who  in  his  own  way  was  fond  of 
John  and  hated  to  see  him  leave,  swung  his 
portly  form  out  of  the  door  and  hurried  to  the 
next  house. 


2/6  GOOD-BY. 

John  now  hastened  to  pay  what  to  many  boys 
whose  fathers  back  them  up  would  seem  a  ridic- 
ulously small  number  of  bills  ;  but  these  few 
took  within  a  half-dollar  of  all  of  his  money. 
At  any  rate,  his  debts  were  paid,  and  many  an 
Andover  tradesman  would  bless  the  day  when 
every  graduate  should  have  as  fine  a  sense  of 
honor.  Duns  could  not  flaunt  themselves  in  his 
face  ;  and  the  lad  whose  poverty  and  pride  were 
intimate  friends  was  comparatively  happy. 

Now  the  last  events  chase  each  other  with 
the  rapidity  of  a  hundred  yard  dash. 

"  Philo,"  that  time-honored  debating  society, 
closed  its  season  after  a  heated  and  enthusiastic 
discussion  as  to  "whether  the  Faculty  has  any 
moral  right  to  compel  students  to  attend  an 
afternoon  Sunday  service."  This  was  gravely 
decided  by  the  honored  President  in  the  nega- 
tive on  the  "  merits  of  the  question,"  rather 
than  of  the  debate. 

Who  can  forget  the  Senior  party,  where  "  un- 
theologued "  and  unrestrained  Seniors  of  the 
Academy  and  the  Fern.  Sem.  met  with  strict 
rules  cast  to  the  willing  winds  ?  If  the  calen- 


GOOD-BY.  2/7 

dar  and  the  hostess  agreed,  this  festivity  was 
held  at  the  full  of  the  moon.  With  what  delight 
the  emancipated  Seniors  promenaded  the  moon- 
lit paths  !  Some  few  couples  have  been  known 
to  lose  themselves  for  as  much  as  an  hour  be* 
tween  the  library  and  the  mansion  of  their  in- 
dulgent hostess.  They  tripped  good-naturedly 
over  many  a  snare  laid  by  envious  Middlers. 
Life  was  supremely  blest  at  those  moments,  we 
old  boys  think.  But  John  did  not  go  to  the 
Senior  party.  He  felt  too  shabby  and  too  sad. 

With  what  airs  the  boys  escorted  their  part- 
ners to  old  Abbott  Academy,  the  longest  way 
round  !  How  they  lingered  to  say  good-night, 
and  how  at  last,  perforce,  the  sweet  Fem.  Sems. 
hurried  from  the  glamour  of  this  first  liberty  to 
their  rooms,  not  to  sleep  quite  yet  —  O  no!  — 
but  to  wait. 

"Toot  —  toot  —  loot!"  just  as  some  tired 
head  which  had  been  dressed  for  its  last  Senior 
party  many  years  ago  thanks  her  stars  that 
those  wild  boys  have  done  at  last,  the  welkin 
rings  with  horrid  clang.  Tin-horning  has  be- 
gun. The  sound  re-echoes  from  venerable  brick 


278  GOOD-BY. 

piles  to  modest  wooden  houses  (for  instance, 
the  eleven  Commons  buildings ;  they  are 
modest  enough.  Could  any  one  accuse  them 
of  being  otherwise  ? ),  and  fresh  visitors  at  the 
Mansion  House  arouse  with  thoughts  of  wide- 
spread conflagration.  Fine  clothes  have  been 
hastily  exchanged  for  Gym.  shirts,  and  the  fun 
begins.  The  motto  of  the  departing  class  is 
virtuously  stenciled  on  pavement,  fence  and 
building.  The  last  two  numerals  of  the  grad- 
uating year  are  burnt  upon  grass,  painted  upon, 
boards,  and  pressed  with  pebbles  into  asphalt 
walks.  Here  and  there  Seniors  and  Middlers 
get  up  a  final  friendly  scrimmage,  and  many  an 
unsuspecting  Senior  discovers  that  his  room  is 
"stacked  "  in  the  most  unaccountable  manner. 

And  now  flare  the  torches  that  were  used  at 
the  last  presidential  campaign ;  the  Middlers'  bon- 
fire flashes  on  the  campus  ;  now  spout  the  last 
speeches  over  the  barrel  of  cider,  unsampled  even 
by  a  "  tootor."  Strong  took  his  part  in  all  these 
ceremonies  so  necessary  to  a  Phillips  diploma. 

"  I  think  that  you  boys  had  better  go  home 
now  ;  you've  had  it  out." 


GOOD-BY.  279 

Uncle  Jim's  parental  voice  broke  in  amid  a 
lull  in  the  frolic.  The  tar  barrels  have  burned 
low,  and  the  cider  has  been  dispatched  to  where 
good  cider  must  fain  make  its  pilgrimage. 

"  One  more  long  Phillips,  boys  !  "  cried  trie 
class  president.  The  Ra !  Ra !  Ra's !  died 
away,  and  twinkling  lights  from  staring  windows 
told  that  the  Seniors  had  turned  in  from  their 
last  midnight  jollification. 

No,  not  all.  A  dark  band  of  ten  or  more 
steal  towards  the  Fem.  Sem.  The  cuckoos  and 
the  nightingales  of  the  Academy  are  the  last  to 
seek  their  boarding-houses.  John  Strong  had 
followed  them  mechanically,  and  for  the  sake  of 
his  heavy  bass  was  gladly  included  among  the 
warblers. 

And  now  the  soft  serenade  bursts  forth,  and 
electrifies  every  girl  in  Abbott  Academy  who 
boasts  an  acquaintance  on  the  grass  below. 

"There  !  there  !  there  !  "  It  was  the  flicker- 
ing glow  of  a  match  shining  unsteadily  at  a  dark 
window  that  caused  this  rapture. 

The  dainty  white  outline  of  an  arm  cast  a 
blue-ribboned  bouquet  of  violets  amid  a  violent 


28O  GOOD-BY. 

scramble  for  this  delicate  recognition.  Others 
followed  rapidly,  until  each  Orpheus  has  snatched 
a  favor  from  his  Eurydice. 

"  Good-night,  ladies  ; 

Sweet  dreams,  ladies, 

We're  going  to  leave  you  now.1" 

The  plaintive  air  died  away  with  the  elated 
tramp  of  a  dozen  pair  of  heels,  and  Abbott 
Academy  sighed  like  a  bird,  and  turned  to  sleep 
amid  a  confusion  of  fluttering  recollections. 
Such  delicate  gallantries  go  to  make  the  rela- 
tion between  young  people  a  beautiful  fact  and 
a  beautiful  memory. 

This  year,  and  on  the  following  Sunday,  the 
Baccalaureate  sermon  was  delivered  by  Presi- 
dent Strong  of  Buncome  College,  and  John  was 
fain  to  deny  a  dozen  times  at  least,  any  possible 
relationship  to  this  eminent  man. 

The  Seniors  marched  to  the  Chapel  with  pre- 
ternatural sobriety  and  erectness,  each  with  a 
cane  in  his  hand,  and  all  marshaled  by  Sun- 
shine. For  once,  these  boys  were  allowed  to 
come  in  late  without  a  mark,  and  the  crowded 


THE  CHAPEL. 


GOOD-BY.  283 

Chapel  turned  as  if  to  see  them  walk  to  their 
doom. 

But  this  proved  Dr.  Strong's  Waterloo  ;  for 
the  boys,  in  the  face  of  friend  and  foe  and  fu- 
ture liberty,  clicked  their  watches  with  a  vim, 
to  the  astonishment  of  the  orator,  who  had 
reached  the  thirty-minute  limit  without  halting 
for  nepenthe  or  for  breath. 

If  any  divine  cares  to  make  a  lasting  impres- 
sion on  the  Phillips  boys,  let  him  cease,  though 
it  be  a  violent  wrench  of  self-renunciation,  when 
he  has  talked  half  an  hour;  after  that,  watch 
out!  It  is  the  boys'  well-forfeited  turn,  and 
they  take  it. 

There  is  an  unwritten  tradition  that  a  mis- 
sionary gave  his  geographical  experiences  for 
more  than  ninety  minutes,  despite  the  warn- 
ing of  a  hundred  watch  lids  as  they  clicked  ac- 
companiment to  the  monotonous  drone.  Since 
that  time  foreign  missionary  stock  among  those 
youthful  bears  has  had  a  tumble. 

"  Heigh-ho  !  "  yawned  the  Senior  class  that 
bright  June  morning.  Hurry  up  to  breakfast, 


284  GOOD-BY. 

my  boy,  the  last  day  of  school !  But  to  John 
the  light  brought  a  sense  of  suffocation.  He 
was  as  cheerful  as  a  Roman  in  the  last  hours  of 
Pompeii. 

At  last  the  great  hall  in  the  Academy  build- 
ing was  crammed  to  suffocation.  The  Salem 
Cadet  band  held  a  position  of  prominence,  and 
their  music  mingled  with  the  flutter  in  a  minor 
key.  Uncle  Jim  and  a  dignified  corps  of  black- 
stoled  teachers  and  trustees  filled  the  platform. 
The  Senior  English  and  Senior  Latin  mottoes 
hung  on  banners  decorating  the  rear  of  the 
stage  and  superciliously  criticised  each  other. 

The  Senior  speakers  sat  in  the  ante-room  in 
uncomfortable  chairs,  in  more  uncomfortable 
clothes,  in  most  uncomfortable  attitudes.  The 
rustle  of  the  dresses,  the  odor  of  the  flowers, 
and  the  solemnity  of  those  old  portraits  of  the 
pious  founders,  as  they  blinked  down  upon  the 
same  familiar  performance  that  they  had  wit- 
nessed year  after  year,  would  have  disconcerted 
Cicero  himself. 

John  Strong  spoke  in  his  turn  eloquently  and 
with  force  ;  and  by  virtue  of  his  modest  manner, 


GOOD-BY.  285 

his  earnest  thought,  and  the  little  reputation  he 
had  acquired,  created  perhaps  as  favorable  an 
impression  as  any.  It  is  doubtful  whether  any 
one  noticed  the  quality  of  his  clothes;  certainly 
his  matter  was  not  loose  and  patched.  He  re- 
ceived one  handsome  bouquet  with  no  card  at- 
tached. The  writer  is  the  first  to  let  him  know 
that  Lambkin  sent  it  in  order  that  his  friend 
might  not  be  the  only  unflowered  orator.  For 
Strong  was  the  one  graduate  who  was  not 
blessed  with  a  mother  or  a  cousin  or  even  a 
friend  who  had  come  to  town  to  see  him  per- 
form. Boys  who  have  felt  this  kind  of  loneli- 
ness on  Exhibition  day  do  not  need  to  be  told 
how  this  unnamed  bouquet  comforted  the  lad. 
When  his  name  was  called,  John  walked  up 
amid  the  generous  applause,  so  warmly  given  to 
each  graduate  in  that  crowning  moment,  and 
received  his  sheepskin,  tied  with  broad,  baby- 
blue  ribbon  ;  bowed  and  retired.  He  did  not 
look  at  Uncle  Jim. 

"  An  alumnus  of  Phillips  Academy  !  Dear 
old  Phillips  ! "  he  said,  looking  over  his  diploma 
as  soon  as  he  had  returned  to  his  room  and  was 


286  GOOD-BY. 

alone.  "  It's  about  as  much  honor  as  I'll  ever 
get,  I'm  afraid.  Who  knows  but  that  I'll  have 
to  cobble  shoes  or  teach  a  district  school  the 
rest  of  my  life  ?  " 

Then  that  prosaic  lad  who  had  stood  disap- 
pointment so  bravely,  broke  down  and  actually 
kissed  the  girlish-looking  roll,  and  then  tucked 
it  carefully  in  his  old  bag. 

While  his  classmates  joyously  showed  their 
lady  friends  the  sights  and  lions  of  the  town, 
John  picked  his  room  up  preparatory  to  an  early 
start  the  following  morning.  He  burnt  the 
ragged  things  that  he  couldn't  wear.  He  made 
his  books  in  an  express  parcel  to  be  left  with 
Mr.  Locks,  addressed,  and  ready  to  be  sent  on 
demand.  He  packed  in  his  old  bag  the  few 
things  he  owned  and  needed  to  take.  The 
trunk  was  useless,  as  there  was  not  enough  to 
fill  it.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  donate  it  to 
the  institution.  It  was  his  father's,  but  he  was 
too  poor  to  carry  it.  Finally  he  swept  his  room 
clean  and  then  escaped  to  Pomp's  pond  in  order 
to  be  alone. 

"  If  I  only  could  see  Calvin  !  "  he  thought ; 


GOOD-BY.  287 

but  the  Seminary  had  closed  a  week  ago  and 
Mansfield  had  somehow  with  natural  careless- 
ness slipped  away,  sending  his  only  good-bys  to 
his  cousin  by  postal  card  written  at  the  rate  of 
fifty  miles  an  hour. 

"  You're  early  this  morning,  Mr.  Strong. 
Here,  you,  Kitty,  set  the  milk  down  there  next 
to  his  plate." 

It  was  John's  last  breakfast  at  the  Milktoast 
Club  and  he  was  the  first  one  at  the  table.  The 
tall  landlady  peered  at  him  as  he  sat  alone.  She 
looked  as  if  she  wanted  to  say  some  kindly  thing 
and  didn't  know  how. 

There  was  less  white,  nicked  crockery  on 
the  tables.  Dishes  always  are  short  -at  the 
end  of  the  year.  The  barrel  of  unreplaced 
broken  wares  was  ready  to  be  rolled  to  the 
back  of  the  garden  for  future  use  as  an  eco- 
nomical fertilizer. 

"  You're  going  away  to-day  ?  " 

Mrs.  Grooge  knew  it  as  well  as  he,  but  it  was 
a  part  of  her  politeness  to  speak  as  if  he  were  a 
guest,  not  a  boarder. 


288  GOOD-BY. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  John  slowly  as  he 
crumbled  bread  into  his  bowl  of  milk. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,  I  am.  You've  been  prompt 
to  pay  and  you  ain't  got  none  too  much,  I  know. 
There  ain't  every  one  does  that.  Now  there's 
Landor.  He's  as  promising  as  some  of  those 
cabbage  heads  out  there,  that  don't  top  out," 
indicating  with  a  jerk  of  her  thumb  over  her 
shoulder,  the  Milktoast  garden.  "  And  Dal- 
stan  — but  I  won't  tell  you  no  tales." 

The  hard  and  deeply  wrinkled. face  looked  at 
John  tenderly  and  Kitty  glanced  shyly  that  way 
too.  When  John  had  found  a  hair-pin  in  his 
apple  pie  one  day,  he  didn't  tell  of  it  and  yell 
like  the  rest  of  the  boys.  Kitty  had  recovered 
her  missing  property  after  dinner,  carefully  wiped 
and  tucked  under  his  plate,  and  she  respected 
him. 

"  Are  you  going  home  to-day  ?  Your  mother 
will  be  glad  to  see  you.  Do  you  go  by  cars  ?  " 

Mrs.  Grooge  smoothed  her  immaculate  hair 
across  her  forehead. 

"The  train  runs  to  Conacoot,"  said  John 
evasively,  laying  down  his  napkin  and  rising. 


GOOD-BY.  289 

"  You  have  been  very  punctual,  Mr.  Strong  ; 
can't  I  help  you  before  you  go  ?  "  There  was 
real  meaning  in  those  words.  They  touched 
the  boy. 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Grooge.  You  have  been 
very  good  to  me.  I  start  as  soon  as  I  get  to  my 
room.  There  the  boys  come  !  Good-by,  Kitty  ; 
good-by." 

He  rung  the  hard,  bony  hand  that  his  land- 
lady held  out ;  he  had  a  "  look  like  as  if  he  was 
a-going  to  jump  into  the  Shawsheen  River  at 
the  next  crossing,"  as  Mrs.  Grooge  expressed  it 
to  Lambkin  later. 

John  hastened  to  his  room,  abstractedly  salut- 
ing the  few  boys  he  passed.  With  hurried  des- 
peration he  resolutely  grasped  his  bag,  took  his 
stout  cane  from  the  corner,  shot  one  more  look 
into  the  bareness,  then  closed  and  locked  the 
door  and  entrusted  the  key  to  the  Prep,  opposite 
with  strict  orders  to  give  it  to  Mr.  Locks. 

Then  John  couldn't  resist  the  impulse,  and 
peered  into  Latin  Commons  2,  Room  2,  through 
the  window  panes.  Pictures  of  his  year's  ex- 
perience flashed  in  that  moment  across  his  brain. 


2QO  GOOD-BY. 

He  thought  of  Doc.  Shelby  and  his  long  illness. 
"I'm  glad  I  did  it,  any  way,"  he  ejaculated. 
The  sound  of  his  own  voice  awoke  him  from  his 
brief  reverie.  He  looked  up  and  cast  a  long, 
tender  glance  upon  the  row  of  surly  sentinel 
boxes,  and  felt  that  he  had  been  on  stainless 
duty  during  that  bitter,  successful  and  disap- 
pointing year.  He  turned,  and  his  year's  home 
was  behind  him.  Somehow  he  couldn't  say 
good-by  to  Uncle  Jim,  and  he  didn't.  He 
passed  on  the  other  side.  Then  John  Strong 
started  bravely  down  Main  Street  to  walk  to 
Conacoot. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

WHOA— Shsst— Want  a  ride,  you?" 
Pete  looked  down  upon  our  pedes- 
trian from  the  height  of  his  ancient  coach, 
whose  motto  seemed  sadly  in  need  of  repair. 
That  old  landmark  has  disappeared  from  An- 
dover  along  with  the  Mansion  House  and  many 
other  undisputed  historic  connections  of  George 
Washington  and  the  "  Founders." 

"  Walking  to  the  train  ?  I'll  take  you  down. 
Get  up  here,  can't  you  ?  " 

"I'll  try." 

John  unconsciously  made  the  same  reply  he 
did  when  he  first  rolled  in  at  the  station  and  the 
stage  was  full.  Pete  seemed  to  remember  this 
coincidence,  for  he  shifted  his  quid  of  tobacco 
and  said : 

"  There  you  are !     You  can  walk   fine  now. 
291 


2Q2  JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

You  us'n't  to  when  you  fust  came,  now  did 
you  ?  "  triumphantly  he  added.  "  Andover  air 
agrees  with  you.  It  does  with  'em  all.  I 
guess  you're  sorry  to  go  home.  How  you  whol- 
lopped  those  Exeter  fellers  !  This  ride  sha'n't 
cost  you  nothin'.  I'm  goin'  down  to  the  train 
anyhow." 

"  But  I'm  not  going  there,"  said  John,  as 
merrily  as  he  could. 

"You  hain't?"  Pete  gave  an  incredulous 
whistle  that  made  the  jaded  horses  start  ahead 
with  a  feeble  jerk.  "  Ain't  you  a-goin'  home 
with  yer  verlise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Pete.     Let  me  down  here,  please." 

The  stage  had  just  swung  around  the  corner 
from  the  post-office. 

"Whoa  —  whoa  there,  shsst  !  "  Pete  reined 
the  steeds  up  with  a  disappointed  air. 

"  Thank  you,  Pete.  I'm  going  to  take  a  walk. 
Here  are  ten  cents.  I  wish  I  had  more  to  give 
you.  Take  it." 

"  I'll  be  danged  if  I  will.  Here's  your  ver- 
lise. Where  are  you  a-goin'  ?  "  Pete  looked  as 
if  John  had  lost  his  wits. 


JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM.  2Q3 

"  I'm  going  to  take  a  walk.  Good-by.  Thank 
you." 

Pete  watched  the  boy  trudge  slowly  down  the 
Lawrence  turnpike. 

"  Danged  if  he  hain't  a-goin'  to  foot  it !  I'll 
be  gee-hawed  if  he  hain't !" 

Pete  drove  down  his  hill  to  the  train,  shaking 
his  head  and  growling  at  his  tired  horses. 

But  John  walked  on  steadily  down  around  the 
curve  towards  home,  and  never  turned  to  look 
behind. 

"  I  suppose,  my  love,  you  will  see  Strong 
when  he  comes  to  take  his  leave  to-day,"  said 
Uncle  Jim  that  morning  at  the  breakfast 
table. 

"  Oh  !  dear,  yes,"  answered  his  wife  wearily, 
"  he's  been  a  very  good  boy,  one  of  the  best  we 
have  ever  had." 

"  Is  that  the  one  whom  I  have  heard  pitched 
such  a  famous  game  against  Exeter  ?  "  asked  a 
Reverend  visitor  with  momentary  interest. 

"  Yes,  the  same,"  replied  his  host  curtly  ;  and 
conversation  passed  easily  on  to  the  rumor  that 


2Q4    JOHN    CALVIN     SOLVES     THE     PROBLEM. 

a  new  President  would  soon  be  appointed  to 
Buncome  College. 

The  distinguished  disciplinarian  and  Principal 
sat  in  his  study  chair  after  that  breakfast  and 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  felt  the  pleasing 
glow  of  a  successful  school  year  passing  over 
him.  He  yielded  to  the  agreeable  sensation 
and  recalled  numerous  flattering  compliments. 
Never  had  the  school  been  so  prosperous. 
Never  had  his  authority  been  more  unques- 
tioned or  his  system  better  sustained.  He  was 
not  pleased  to  be  disturbed  in  these  congrat- 
ulatory reflections  by  a  decided  knock  at  the 
door.  Recollecting  himself  that  it  might  be 
a  parent  or  a  Trustee,  his  decided  voice  rolled  out 
a  softened  "  Come  in."  Before  the  last  inflec- 
tion of  his  tones  had  died  away,  Lambkin  walked 
in  with  a  resolute  stride. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Lambkin.  Take  a  seat,  sir.  Com- 
ing to  say  good-by  ?  That's  right.  I  have 
watched  you  during  your  four  years'  course. 
It's  a  long  time  "  — 

"  No,  sir,"  broke  in  the  new  alumnus  intrep- 
idly. Whether  his  emancipation  from  recent 


JOHN     CALVIN     SOLVES    THE     PROBLEM.     2Q5 

and  stringent  authority  had  turned  his  head,  or 
whether  he  had  been  drinking,  Uncle  Jim 
couldn't  say.  He  stared  at  the  interrupter  and 
was  about  to  speak  again  when  Lambkin  burst 
forth. 

"No,  sir,  I  didn't  come  to  say  good-by.  I'm 
looking  for  Strong,  John  Strong,  the  best  fellow 
in  the  class.  His  room  is  locked  and  he's  gone, 
and  he  hasn't  money  enough  in  his  pocket  to 
get  home.  Do  you  know  where  Strong  is  ? " 

"  I,  sir  ? "  gasped  the  great  man  as  if  he  had 
been  struck  between  the  ribs.  "  I,  sir  ?  This 
is  very  extraordinary,  sir,  for  you  to  come  to 
me  in  this  tone.  Of  course  I  am  ignorant  of 
Strong's  whereabouts." 

Uncle  Jim  raised  himself  in  his  chair  and 
glowered  at  Lambkin  who  stood  unflinchingly 
before  him.  Lambkin  was  safe,  and  both  knew 
it.  He  couldn't  be  expelled  whatever  happened, 
but  the  old  instinct  of  obedience  was  upon  him, 
and  he  retrieved  himself.  "Excuse  me,  sir,  I'm 
troubled  about  Strong.  I'm  the  best  friend  he's 
got,  and  he's  given  up  his  room  and  left  without 
a  word  to  me  or  to  any  one  else.  I  don't  know 


2Q6  JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

where  he  is.  Nobody  knows  where  he  is.  I 
thought  you  would.  I  don't  believe  he's  got 
fifty  cents  in  his  pocket." 

"  If  he  had  only  come  to  me  and  told  me 
his  troubles  I  would  have  lent  him  what  he 
needed."  Uncle  Jim  interrupted  hastily. 

"  He  couldn't,"  Lambkin  broke  in,  "  he's  too 
proud.  He  felt  that  you  misunderstood  him 
and  I  don't  know  but  he's  right." 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  blazed  the 
Principal. 

"  You  thought  he  shirked  his  lessons.  He 
didn't."  Lambkin  involuntarily  clinched  his 
fist  in  his  coat  sleeve,  and  if  we  may  say  so, 
respectfully  blazed  in  return.  "  He  was  a 
trump  to  Doc.  Shelby.  Of  course  you  knew 
he  nursed  him,  but  you  didn't  know  how  that 
sick  fellow  clutched  him  every  minute,  day  and 
night  —  all  that  night-watching — no  sleep  — 
wouldn't  have  any  one  else  —  how  could  he 
study  ?  He  didn't  have  a  chance.  I'd —  I'd  — 
I'd  —  I'd  stump  the  Trustees  and  the  whole 
Andover  Faculty  to  do  any  better  than  he 
did  !  "  exploded  Lambkin. 


JOHN     CALVIN     SOLVES     THE     PROBLEM. 


This  outburst  of  courage  turned  him  very  red 
in  the  face.  Uncle  Jim  had  begun  to  redden 
too.  In  his  embarrassment  he  wiped  his  glasses 
and  wished  devoutly  for  a  Trustee  to  come  in 
and  relieve  the  .situation.  He  evidently  was 
trying  to  think  what  he  could  say. 

"He  —  Strong  didn't  tell  me,"  said  Dr.  Tyler 
nervously,  with  a  faint  suspicion  that  "  some 
one  had  blundered." 

"  Of  course  he  didn't.  Strong's  too  proud. 
He'd  eat  his  heart  out  first,"  went  on  Lambkin, 
the  thermometer  of  his  pluck  marking  120  de- 
grees pressure.  "  You  didn't  like  his  pitching 
and  thought  he  cut  work  to  play  ball.  Not  he. 
I  did  that.  If  he  hadn't  gone  to  the  Gym.  to 
practice  a  half  an  hour  a  day  to  get  away  from 
that  stuffy  sick  room  he  would  have  gone  clean 
under.  He  pitched  for  life,  not  for  rep.*  He 
wanted  strength,  not  popularity.  I  made  him 
go  in  and  win  the  Exeter  game.  He  didn't 
even  know  he  was  a  substitute.  He  refused  to 
play  a  dozen  times.  He  couldn't  take  time 
from  study  to  practice.  You  ought  to  be  proud 

*  "  Rep."  is  P.  A.  abbreviation  for  reputation. 


298  JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

that  he  beat  Exeter  with  such  odds  against  him !  * 
Excuse  me,  sir  —  I  don't  mean  to  be  disrespect- 
ful, but  I  can't  stand  it.     The  fellow  has  been 
misunderstood  too  long." 

"That's  so  !  "  piped  a  shrill  voice. 

It  was  Mrs.  Grooge,  the  landlady  of  the  Milk- 
toast  Club.  Mrs.  Grooge  advanced  on  Uncle 
Jim.  Her  wrinkled  face  wore  a  stern  expres- 
sion. She  looked  resolved.  Mrs.  Grooge  had 
come  from  the  country,  even  beyond  Wilming- 
ton Junction.  She  was  not  a  minister's  widow, 
and  she  lacked  the  advantages  of  education  and 
correct  and  elaborate  speech  that  the  present 
Andover  landladies  possess.  Mrs.  Grooge  was 
not  a  member  of  a  reading  club  or  even  of  a 
Browning  Society,  and  her  grammar  became 
confused  in  proportion  as  her  earnestness 
increased. 

"  I'm  glad  you're  here,  Mr.  Lambkin.  You 
kin  back  me  up."  Lambkin  looked  a  little 
alarmed  and  involuntarily  backed  up  to  the 
wall. 

"He's  paid  up,  Mr.  Tyler.  I  ain't  got  -no 
complaint  ag'in  him.  The  sperrit  was  on  me. 


JOHN     CALVIN     SOLVES     THE     PROBLEM.     3OI 

I  bed  to  come.  That  young  man  is  clean  wore 
out  with  discouragement.  I  hear  the  boys  talk. 
He's  too  poor  for  college,  and  them's  a-goin' 
who  don't  hold  a  candle  to  him.  He  never 
complained  about  his  vittles,  not  he.  He  could 
have  gone.  Didn't  that  Harvard  chap  offer  to 
pay  all  expenses  if  he'd  play  for  'em  ?  I  heerd  it 
all  from  my  boys.  There  ain't  nothin'  goin' 
on  I  don't  know." 

The  worthy  lady  stopped  for  breath. 

"Who?" 

The  Principal  put  in  this  interrogation  at 
the  most  favorable  moment,  but  his  heart  sank 
within  him. 

"Who?  Who  do  yer  think  I'm  a-talkin' 
about?  Who  but  Strong  —  John  Strong  —  the 
lame  boy — the  sick  miss — the  boy  that  pays 
his  debts  and  larns  his  lessons  —  is  impoged 
upon  and  never  lets  on  —  who  but  the  Saint 
Ebenezer  of  Phillips  Academy  !  " 

At  the  sound  of  Strong's  name  the  Principal 
had  collapsed  entirely,  but  recovered  himself  at 
the  mention  of  the  last  candidate  for  canoniza- 
tion enough  to  suggest  dryly  : 


3O2  JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

"  Perhaps,  Mrs.  Grooge,  you  intended  to  sub- 
stitute the  name  of  St.  John  !  " 

"  It's  all  true,"  said  Lambkin  disconsolately. 
"  He  had  a  chance  to  play  on  the  team  at  Har- 
vard and  get  through  college  that  way  ;  but  he 
said  he  meant  to  go  to  study,  and  he  wouldn't 
doit.  He's  as  poor  as  —  as —  He's  the  poor- 
est boy  in  Phillips  Academy." 

"  He's  as  poor  as  Job's  Christmas  turkey," 
said  Mrs.  Grooge ;  and  to  many  a  student 
who  had  spent  that  holiday  at  the  Milktoast 
Club,  the  argument  would  have  clinched  the 
matter. 

Dr.  Tyler  made  no  reply,  but  threw  his  head 
back  with  the  grand  motion  that  a  gladiator 
might  have  made  when  he  had  received  his  first 
staggering  blow  in  the  face.  The  Principal  who 
prided  himself  upon  his  accurate  insight  into 
character  was  humbled,  but  was  great  enough 
not  to  be  ashamed  to  own  it.  The  tide  of  his 
disfavor  had  turned,  and  he  felt  an  eager  over- 
flow of  sympathy  toward  his  wronged  pupil. 

A  rap  at  the  door  distracted  his  thoughts. 
The  newcomer  proved  to  be  Pete,  the  coachman. 


JOHN     CALVIN     SOLVES     THE     PROBLEM.     303 

"  I  saw  the  flag  out,  sir.  Are  any  one  going 
down  ? " 

"  No,  Pete,"  answered  the  Principal.  "  I 
want  you  to  mail  these  letters  for  me,  now  that 
my  boy  has  gone.  By  the  way,  have  you  seen 
anything  of  Strong  this  morning  ?  " 

All  three  looked  at  Pete,  who  stood  with  the 
red  flag  in  his  hand,  rolling  it  up. 

"  Seed  him  ?  "  Here  Pete  lifted  his  hat  and 
twirled  it  on  the  flag  staff.  "  Well,  I  guess  I 
have.  I  took  him  an'  his  old  verlise  down  not 
more  than  a  half  an  hour  ago.  I'll  be  danged  "  — 

"  Pete  !  "  said  the  Doctor  impressively. 

"  Beg  parding,  Doctor  ;  but  it  riled  me  to 
glory  to  see  that  weak  critter  with  no  legs  and 
all  arms  footin'  it  with  that  bag  to  Frye  Village. 
I'll  be  danged  "  — 

"  Pete  ! !  "  Uncle  Jim's  voice  expressed  grief 
and  surprise  at  the  free  use  of  this  heretical 
epithet. 

"  'Scuse  me.  But  I'll  bet  he's  too  poor  to 
ride  an'  is  a-walkin'  hum." 

"  Oh  !  "  groaned  Lambkin. 

"  Lord-a-massy  !  "    ejaculated    Mrs.    Grooge  ; 


3O4  JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

while  Uncle  Jim  turned  his  face  as  if  searching 
for  the  letters,  and  hastily  brushed  a  truant  tear 
from  his  cheek  into  the  waste  paper  basket. 

Pete's  hand  was  now  on  the  latch  and  he 
was  putting  the  letters  into  his  pocket  when  a 
scratching  sound  startled  the  mourners. 

The  door  was  flung  open,  and  in  dashed  John 
Calvin,  prancing  like  a  panther  and  emitting 
barks  of  joy.  But  when  the  high-spirited  ani- 
mal saw  those  four  dejected  countenances,  his 
exuberance  fell  and  he  regarded  the  inmates 
critically.  When  his  eyes  at  last  encountered 
the  stern  gaze  of  the  great  boy-tamer,  the  dog's 
courage  oozed  out  of  his  tail  like  electricity  out 
of  an  uninsulated  wire.  His  caudal  end  dropped 
between  his  legs.  With  unnatural  humility  he 
backed  away  until  he  reached  the  wall.  He  sat 
down  upon  his  haunches  and  uttered  a  deep 
sigh.  Then  Calvin  opened  his  jaws,  pointed  his 
nose  at  the  ceiling  and  howled  lugubriously. 

"Calvin,  you  scamp,  come  out  of  that !" 

His  master's  voice  recalled  Calvin  to  the 
proper  perspective  of  life,  and  the  too  fashion- 
able theologue  bowed  himself  into  this  solemn 


JOHN     CALVIN     SOLVES     THE     PROBLEM.     305 

atmosphere  as  if  he  had  come  to  an  evening  party. 
"  Ah  !  Dr.  Tyler,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  I 
hope  I  don't  interrupt.  Down,  sir  —  or  go 
right  out.  Do  you  hear  ?  But  can  you  tell 
me,"  he  continued  politely,  "  where  I  can  find 
my  cousin,  John  Strong  ?  " 

There  was  something  in  this  cheerful  urbanity 
that  struck  the  others  as  both  ridiculous  and 
pathetic,  and  the  four  exchanged  significant 
glances.  Roger  proceeded  with  unusual  em- 
barrassment. "  I've  just  run  up  from  New  York. 
I  must  find  him.  His  room  is  empty.  A  friend 
of  mine  —  a  — a  young  lady  wrote  me  some  facts 
about  my  cousin  which  I  didn't  know.  I  ought 
to  have.  I've  come  out  to  do  something. 
Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  groaned  Uncle  Jim.     "  Another  !  " 

"  He's  gone  !  "  wailed  Mrs.  Grooge. 

"  Gone  ?  "  echoed  Roger,  turning  as  pale  as 
birch  bark.  "  When  did  he  die  ?  " 

"  He  ain't  dead,"  said  Pete,  waving  the  red 
flag.  "It's  wuss  ;  he's  gone  to  Lawrence." 

"  He's  walking  to  Conacoot,  that's  all,"  said 
Lambkin  laconically.  "  He's  so  poor  as  that." 


3O6  JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

"  I  had  some  good  news  for  him,"  said  Roger. 
"  My  father  is  going  to  take  care  of  Mrs. 
Strong.  She  is  his  first  cousin.  He  sent  me 
on  to  say  so.  I've  got  a  two-hundred  dollar 
check  in  my  pocket  for  'em.  Now  the  thing  is 
to  get  John  to  college.  His  mother  needn't 
keep  him.  He's  got  to  go." 

The  theologue  triumphantly  raised  his  pocket- 
book,  which  John  Calvin  immediately  grabbed, 
under  the  impression  that  a  base-ball  match  was 
going  on  between  his  master  and  Dr.  James  Tyler. 

"  Confound  my  luck,  I'm  too  late,"  said 
Mansfield. 

Uncle  Jim  broke  the  perplexed  silence  that 
followed  with  these  manly  words. 

"  I  have  made  a  sad  mistake.  I  misinter- 
preted the  lad.  I  acknowledge  it  frankly.  He's 
a  noble  fellow  and  we  must  get  him  back." 

"  South  Lawrence  ain't  Mexico,"  interposed 
Pete  dryly,  "nor  yet  Pattygony.  I  guess  my 
bosses  could  match  him." 

Uncle  Jim  sprang  to  the  proposition. 

"  Mr.  Peter,"  he  said  impressively,  "  I  will 
charter  your  vehicle." 


JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM.  3O/ 

"  Wall,"  assented  Pete,  patting  the  flag  ten- 
derly. "  I  guess  I  can  skip  a  trip.  It's  vaca- 
tion. There  ain't  many  folks  take  the  11.09." 

In  no  time  at  all,  Roger  Mansfield  and  John 
Calvin  took  the  coach  —  Roger  on  the  box  with 
Pete,  and  Calvin  spurting  ahead.  Uncle  Jim 
started  for  his  hat  to  represent  the  passengers, 
but  Roger  respectfully  suggested  that  he  stay 
at  home  and  keep  cool,  as  it  was  ninety  in  the 
shade.  There  was  an  early  dinner  at  the 
Milktoast  Club  that  day,  and  Mrs.  Grooge, 
having  done  her  duty,  disappeared  from  the 
scene.  Lambkin  wrung  her  hand  warmly  on 
the  threshold.  "Three  cheers  for  the  Milktoast 
Club  !  "  he  cried.  "  Three  more  for  our  land- 
lady, with  a  kind  heart!  —  Besides,"  he  mut- 
tered, "  she  gave  as  good  as  she  was  paid  for." 

Then  Lambkin  heroically  staid  to  comfort  the 
dejected  Principal. 

If  any  summer  boarder  had  been  stunned  by 
the  furious  pace  of  the  venerable  coach  as  it 
thundered  down  Main  Street  on  its  mission  of 
consolation,  he  would  also  have  observed  a  natty 


3O8  JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

young  man  beside  the  driver  trying  to  write  on 
a  fly-leaf  of  his  note-book  in  spite  of  bumps  and 
jerks.  The  case  stood  as  follows  : 

John  Calvin  was  one  of  the  best  trained  dogs 
in  New  England.  The  duties  of  an  errand  boy 
were  performed  by  this  intelligent  dog  with 
skill  and  alacrity.  It  had  long  been  his  daily 
task  to  bring  the  morning  paper  from  the  office 
a  mile  away  to  Roger  Mansfield's  boarding 
house  at  breakfast  time.  He  had  even  been 
known  to  evade  the  authorities  and  deliver  notes 
at  the  Fern.  Sem.  successfully.  Now,  as  Roger 
Mansfield  scribbled  on  his  shaking  knee,  he 
whistled  peremptorily  to  the  dog  who  was 
bounding  gaily  ahead.  Calvin  stopped,  stood  to 
one  side  like  a  soldier  ready  to  be  reviewed,  and 
waited  for  the  stage. 

"  Fall  back,  sir  !  Behind  there.  I  may  need 
you  any  minute  ! "  The  master  spoke  with  a 
gesture  of  authority,  and  the  dog,  wondering 
what  rule  he  had  now  disobeyed,  took  up  his 
dusty  position  in  the  wake  of  the  creaking 
coach. 

Pete   chose  the  left-hand  road  to  Lawrence, 


JOHN     CALVIN     SOLVES     THE     PROBLEM.     309 

for,  as  Pete  said,  "  If  he's  a-goin'  to  foot  it  to 
Conacoot,  he'll  strike  the  North  Lawrence 
track." 

Never  had  this  conservative  coach  left  the 
village  before.  When  had  the  'horses  been  put 
to  such  a  speed  ?  Down  the  old  turnpike, 
across  the  track,  dashed  the  pursuing  horses, 
coach  and  dog.  Mill-wives  stopped  frying 
bacon  for  their  husbands  and  stared  at  this  un- 
heard-of sight.  Frye  Village,  the  blacksmith's 
shop,  the  old  small-pox  hospital,  the  oak  woods, 
were  soon  left  behind.  Now  the  historic  mills 
of  Lawrence  loom  up.  Another  half-mile,  and 
the  eyes  of  the  two  scan  the  winding  road, 
searching  for  the  runaway  lad.  John  Calvin 
is  as  eager  in  the  chase  as  anybody,  and  under- 
stands it  quite  as  well. 

"There!     Ain't  that  him  ?" 

Pete  reined  up  the  panting  horses  to  get  a 
better  look.  A  figure  far  ahead,  carrying  some- 
thing on  his  shoulders,  stood  against  the  sky  for 
a  moment  like  a  silhouette,  and  then  dropped 
out  of  sight.  Mansfield  hastily  jumped  down 
and  called  his  dog. 


3IO    JOHN     CALVIN     SOLVES    THE     PROBLEM. 

"  Here,  Calvin,  now  !  Take  this  !  So  !  Don't 
you  drop  it  for  your  life.  Run  ahead  now. 
Hurry  up.  Give  it  to  him.  Find  him  !  Hurry 
up,  sir !  " 

The  dog  gave  one  look  at  his  master  and  one 
down  the  road  to  Lawrence. 

"  Yes,  he's  there.  Hurry  up  and  take  it  to 
him!" 

Realizing  then  his  part  of  the  programme, 
Calvin  darted  ahead  like  a  startled  deer ;  and 
soon  only  the  faint  cloud  of  falling  dust  in  the 
distance  betrayed  that  the  messenger  had  passed. 

Patter,  patter,  patter  !  —  pant,  pant,  pant ! 
—  what  was  the  noise  behind?  Poor  John 
Strong  did  not  look  around.  He  did  not  care. 
Body  and  soul,  he  was  tired  out.  His  back 
ached.  His  leg  ached.  His  hands  and  shoulders 
ached  under  the  leathern  bag,  and  his  heart 
ached.  Was  it  his  fate  to  toil  through  life,  a 
dusty  tramp  like  this  ?  His  eyes  filled.  Trees 
and  road  were  blurred  before  him  as  he  thought 
of  the  congenial  and  intellectual  world  which  he 
had  left  behind  forever. 


JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM.  3!  I 

To  the  reader  who  is  choked  with  highly 
spiced  plots  palpitating  with  danger  and  hair- 
breadth escapes,  this  story  of  John's  struggle 
may  seem  singularly  simple.  But  to  John 
Strong  these  events  were  of  terrific  moment. 
Boys  and  girls  are  not  apt  to  cast  a  calm  look 
beyond,  and  the  failure  of  an  immediate  hope 
seems  to  their  young  vision  the  failure  of  a  life. 
Disappointment  always  brings  its  corresponding 
misery.  The  ratio  is  the  same  whether  it  over- 
takes one  in  youth  or  in  maturity. 

Patter,  patter,  patter! — pant,  pant!  —  yap! 
yap  !  yap  ! 

"  It  sounds  like  John  Calvin,"  said  John 
Strong  drearily  ;  but  of  course  that  could  not 
be.  Calvin  was  in  New  York.  John  set  his 
eyes  on  the  Pacific  Mills  and  pushed  ahead. 
Still  he  did  not  look  behind  him. 

"  Ow  !     What's  that  ?  " 

It  was  a  pair  of  dusty  paws.  It  was  a  cold, 
damp  nose.  It  was  John  Calvin  who  had  taken 
the  boy  in  his  arms  like  a  grizzly  bear.  John 
Strong  dropped  his  bag  and  hugged  the  dog  with 
all  his  might  in  return.  To  tell  the  whole  truth, 


312  JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

he  put  his  head  on  John  Calvin's  shoulder  and 
cried.  This  was  too  much  for  Calvin.  He 
couldn't  stand  it.  He  bent  his  great  head  and 
kissed  those  rare  tears  away.  This  he  did,  and 
dropped  the  note.  Now  the  miserable  lad  could 
not  help  seeing  the  piece  of  paper,  which  he 
snatched  and  read. 


Wait  for  me  where  you  are.     I'm  coming  to  take  you  back. 
Cheer  up,  old  fellow.     All  right. 

ROGER  MANSFIELD. 


They  bundled  him  in  indeed,  and  took  him 
back.  It  was  a  glorious  rescue,  and  John  Cal- 
vin, in  honor  of  his  prominent  part  in  the  ex- 
ploit, rode  inside  the  coach,  and  spent  his  time 
in  tumbling  off  the  seat  and  alternately  kissing 
with  unprecedented  moisture  the  happy  cousins. 
Pete  stuck  the  red  flag  up  straight  in  the  box- 
seat,  and  at  intervals  waved  it  triumphantly. 
Back  through  the  oak-trees,  through  Frye  Vil- 
lage, past  the  blacksmith's  shop,  past  the  cross- 
ing, the  post-office,  and  up  Andover  hill  the 
vehicle  thundered.  The  idle  postmaster,  the 
sober  tailor,  the  pleasant  newspaper  man  and 


JOHN     CALVIN     SOLVES     THE     PROBLEM.     313 

two  straggling  Professors  stared  and  wondered. 
With  the  flourish  of  the  season  the  coach  rolled 
up  to  Uncle  Jim's  door.  Dazed  and  weak  with 
emotion,  John  followed  his  cousin  into  the  house. 
There  Lambkin  stood  and  gripped  him  with  both 
hands. 

"  Hooray  !  "  yelled  Pete,  "  we've  fetched 
him." 

"  Come  in,"  said  Lambkin  at  the  threshold, 
"he  expects  you." 

Roger  pushed  the  study  door  open,  and  the 
three  young  men  walked  in.  Uncle  Jim  was 
standing.  He  came  straight  up  to  John  Strong 
and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Mr.  Strong,  sir  ;  my  dear  boy  !  I  wronged 
you.  I  mistook  you,  and  I  apologize,  sir ;  do 
you  hear  ?  Report  yourself  at  Harvard  next 
fall." 

"  How  can  I  ? "  stammered  John. 

"  I'll  answer  for  a  dozen  scholarships.  Leave 
that  to  me."  John  tried  to  answer,  but  choked 
and  couldn't. 

"  Gentlemen,  you  will  all  stay  to  dinner." 
Uncle  Jim  changed  the  subject  by  giving  this 


314  JOHN  CALVIN  SOLVES  THE  PROBLEM. 

invitation  in  the  same  tone  he  used  after  prayers 
when  he  said,  "  The  following  gentlemen  are 
requested  to  remain."  This  time  the  boys  re- 
mained without  a  murmur. 

"But  my  dog  ?  "  said  Mansfield  in  despair. 

Then  did  the  Principal  of  Phillips  Academy 
clap  the  climax  of  his  generosity  by  inviting  John 
Calvin  to  dine  in  the  kitchen.  But  John  Calvin 
with  an  aristocratic  sniff  declined.  What  was 
good  enough  for  his  master  was  about  par  for 
him.  So  he  sat  in  the  vestibule  and  tried  to 
dispose  of  a  plate  of  scalding  tomato  soup  which 
Dr.  Tyler,  with  the  ignorance  of  a  dogless  man, 
sent  out  to  his  particular  guest.  Calvin  re- 
garded this  smarting  kindness  with  perplexity. 
The  dog  was  not  the  only  member  of  the  Insti- 
tution who  had  asked  himself  the  question 
whether  Uncle  Jim  were  so  formidable,  after  all. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

DEAR    OLD    ANDOVER  ! 

IT  seemed  incredible  to  John  Strong  that  he 
was  a  member  of  Harvard  College — and 
so  comfortable  a  member  too.  His  entrance 
examinations  had  been  passed  with  brilliancy. 
We  should  own  that  there  was  one  exception. 
He  had  been  conditioned  in  geography  ;  he  who 
had  taught  the  science  of  the  earth's  surface  to 
scholars  twice  his  age  under  the  hills  near  Cona- 
coot.  When  asked  the  name  and  dimensions 
of  the  island  at  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon,  and 
the  direction  of  the  current  through  the  Straits 
of  Magellan,  John  had  failed  to  answer.  But 
these  important  questions,  testing  his  intel- 
lectual fitness  to  enter  Harvard  University,  were 
quickly  mastered,  and  the  heavy  condition  was 
passed  off  with  the  first  week. 

Now  he  was   in  the  full  swing  of  a  college 
315 


316  DEAR   OLD   ANDOVER! 

career.  Homer  and  Livy  and  "  Trig,"  the  three 
ponies  asinorum  of  the  Freshman  class,  had  suc- 
ceeded to  Virgil,  Zenophon  and  Algebra.  John 
Strong  studied  to  know,  and  he  did  such  intelli- 
gent work  that  the  mathematical  tutor,  just 
graduated,  trembled  before  every  recitation,  and 
shivered  under  many  of  John's  thoughtful  ques- 
tions. But  John  did  not  know  that,  and  was 
the  last  in  the  class  to  suspect  it.  This  was  just 
as  well. 

If  you  had  seen  our  hero  in  those  days,  walk- 
ing briskly,  almost  like  any  other  fellow,  from 
his  room  to  recitation  and  back,  you  would  have 
seen  entirely  a  different  boy  from  the  one  who 
had  shouldered  his  bag  and  drearily  started  to 
walk  from  Andover  to  Conacoot.  He  entered 
college  without  a  hindrance,  unless  poverty  is 
to  be  considered  one. 

And  now  John's  memory  of  Phillips  Academy 
was  not  marred  by  a  feeling  that  he  was  dis- 
trusted. Uncle  Jim,  with  the  generosity  of  a 
great  nature,  had  more  than  atoned  for  his  mis- 
take, by  a  tender  interest  in  John's  new  life, 
which  touched  the  poor  boy  beyond  words. 


DEAR  OLD  ANDOVER!  317 

Was  it  not  the  magic  of  the  Principal's  pen 
that  brought  the  scholarship  ?  And  when 
applications  for  tutoring  poured  in,  so  that  the 
lame  Freshman  could  fully  support  himself,  his 
gratitude  to  his  Andover  master  took  the  form 
of  a  deep  and  real  affection.  The  fact  was, 
that  John,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  was 
thoroughly  happy.  For  one  thing,  he  was 
no  longer  harried  and  worried  about  his  mother. 
Roger  Mansfield's  father  was  thoroughly  tak- 
ing care  of  his  long-neglected  relative,  and 
meant  to  do  so,  until  such  time  as  her  son 
should  leave  college.  But  John  afo/miss  Lamb- 
kin, who  had  gone  to  Yale.  That  was  his  one 
sadness. 

John,  as  we  say,  was  working.  His  distinc- 
tion as  a  magnificent  pitcher  had  attracted  some 
attention  to  him,  at  first,  among  Harvard  ath- 
letes ;  but  that  went  only  as  far  as  such  things 
go.  The  position  that  comes  with  scholarship 
is  more  important  and  more  lasting.  John,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  winter's  term,  was  already 
pointed  out,  as  a  sure  winner  of  the  Freshman 
mathematical  prize. 


318  DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER ! 

But  now  he  had  been  away  from  Andover 
nearly  six  months.  What  old  Phillips  student 
does  not  look  forward  feverishly  to  his  first 
return  ?  Especially  if  he  has  done  something 
for  his  Academy  to  be  proud  of.  Uncle  Jim, 
the  terrible  disciplinarian,  had  no  longer  a  place 
in  John's  heart.  Uncle  Jim,  the  friend,  had 
usurped  it.  John  turned  to  this  once  dreadful 
man  for  advice  as  a  son  turns  to  a  father.  He 
had  tasted  of  the  gentleness  of  that  inexorable 
character,  and  henceforth  nothing  could  unde- 
ceive him  about  its  real  quality.  Uncle  Jim 
was  like  so  many  disciplinarians,  who,  when 
their  boys  leave  them,  show  for  the  first  time, 
the  other  side  of  an  imperious  nature.  Then 
see  !  how  quickly  boyish  distrust  and  fear  can 
swing  over  into  reverence  and  love. 

And  oh  !  dear  old  Phillips !  Oh,  for  the 
Commons,  the  Milkt9ast  Club,  the  gleaming 
autumn,  the  spring,  whose  colors  will  never  fade 
from  John's  memory  !  Oh,  for  the  campus,  and 
Lambkin,  and  the  cobwebbed  Gym.  !  It  was 
thus  one  Friday  morning  that  John  mourned. 
And  it  happened  that  on  that  very  day,  a 


DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER  !  319 

letter  came   in   Roger   Mansfield's    nonchalant 
hand  : 


Come  up,  old  fellow,  on  the  first  train  to-morrow  and  spend 
Sunday.  We  all  want  to  see  you.  Calvin  pines  for  you.  The 
fellow  opposite  goes  to  New  Hampshire  and  doughnuts,  to 
supply,  and  I'll  put  you  up  in  his  room. 

In  haste  for  Park's  lecture, 

ROGER. 


The  temptation  was  too  much,  and  next  morn- 
ing, with  an  excuse  from  the  Dean  of  the  col- 
lege, John  Strong  found  himself  swallowing  the 
familiar  blasts  of  the  Andover  depot  by  the 
mouthful.  This  trip  was  a  great  event  for 
John.  He  was  the  only  Freshman  who  had 
been  tacitly  allowed  by  the  Sophomores  to 
carry  a  cane  ;  but  to-day  in  his  pride,  that  cane 
was  left  behind.  Andover  was  to  see  the  new 
John,  not  the  old. 

"  I'll  be  gee-hawed  if  it  hain't  Strong  !  I'm 
glad  to  see  yer  back.  I'll  be  goll-whizzed  if  I 
hain't  !  " 

Who  could  mistake  Pete's  original  greeting  ? 

"  Bow  !  yelp  !  yow  !  How  are  you  ?  Down, 
sir  !  " 


32O  DEAR     OLD     AXDOVER  ! 

But  Calvin,  being  in  a  Shakespearean  mood, 
would  not  down,  and  it  was  a  question  for  cas- 
uistry which  got  to  John  first,  the  dog  or  the 
master. 

"  Bless  you,  old  fellow  !  Here,  Pete  !  Down, 
you  brute  !  Put  him  in  the  back  seat !  Charge, 
sir !  Give  him  the  biggest  buffalo !  Obey, 
when  I  speak,  sir !  Up  to  Bartlett  Hall  !  Get 
behind  there,  sir  !  Be  a  little  more  dignified, 
you  rascal !  " 

John  Calvin  and  Pete  did  their  best  to  disen- 
tangle their  appropriate  orders,  and  obey  them. 

It  was  a  cold  Saturday  in  February.  The  air 
was  penetrating,  and  the  snow  lay  sullenly  on 
the  ground.  Here  and  there  Pete's  sleigh  cut 
through  to  the  bare  earth  and  the  old  horses 
shook  their  heads  disconsolately.  Andover  was 
not  in  her  best  clothes  to-day. 

Pete  drove  up  the  back  way,  past  the  old 
South  Church  and  the  Fern.  Sem.  Calvin,  who 
had  been  prancing  ahead,  stood  attention  at  the 
gate  leading  to  a  well-remembered  door. 

"  At  his  old  tricks  !  "  said  John,  laughing. 
Roger  blushed. 


DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER  !  $21 

"  Yes.  Our  friend  is  there  yet.  She  often 
asks  about  you.  She  will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

It  was  John's  turn  to  flush,  and  the  sleigh 
crunched  on. 

It  was  well  after  dinner  when  John  found 
himself  in  Uncle  Jim's  study.  Roger  and  Cal- 
vin took  him  there  ;  but  this  time  the  dog, 
doubtless  civilized  by  the  memory  of  his  tomato 
soup,  behaved  himself  discreetly.  Roger  had 
no  need  to  present  his  cousin  this  time  with 
protecting  affability,  for  Uncle  Jim  rose  from 
his  chair  and  greeted  the  Freshman-  with  a 
hearty  welcome. 

"  My  dear  boy!"  said  the  Principal,  "I  am 
glad  to  see  you,  sir." 

John  Strong  stood  before  Uncle  Jim  with 
trembling  lips.  What  could  he  say  ?  Words 
choked  within  him.  Perhaps  Roger  saw  his 
cousin's  emotion,  and  that  was  why  he  slipped 
so  quietly  away. 

John  was  deeply  moved,  more  so  than  at  any 
other  time  in  his  life,  except  the  night  when 
Doc.  died,  or  perhaps  we  might  add,  the  hour  of 
his  reconciliation  with  Uncle  Jim,  when  John 


322  DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER  ! 

Calvin,  Pete,  the  old  coach  and  Roger  brought 
him  back.  Perhaps  the  teacher  thought  of  that 
last  scene  between  his  pupil  and  himself,  but 
his  manner  betrayed  no  unusual  feeling.  After 
all,  John  was  only  one  of  hundreds  to  him,  but 
our  hero  had  the  advantage  of  being  the  last  in 
the  sequence.  Then,  the  circumstances  attend- 
ing John's  departure  had  given  a  peculiar  cast 
to  the  Principal's  attitude  toward  the  boy.  He 
trusted  the  lad  thoroughly  now.  John  felt  this 
in  Uncle  Jim's  first  look  that  afternoon,  and  he 
could  have  laid  down  his  life  for  him.  Oh,  the 
loyalty  that  is  born  in  a  boy's  heart  for  the 
school  of  his  youth,  for  the  teacher  of  his  first 
manhood  !  John  may  live  to  be  a  very  old  man, 
long  past  the  time  of  boyish  feelings,  but  he 
will  never  be  too  old  to  love  Andover,  or  to 
adore  her  great  Principal. 

"  Well,  Strong,"  Uncle  Jim's  piercing  eyes 
dwelt  softly  upon  the  Harvard  Freshman,  "  I 
am  glad,  sir,  that  you  have  not  forgotten  the 
old  place." 

"How  could  I,  sir?" 

"  Tut,  tut,  sir.     That  is  what  they  all   say. 


DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER !  323 

But  —  you  are  not  like  the  rest."  John  flushed 
and  looked  down.  He  was  about  to  reply,  when 
Uncle  Jim,  putting  the  forefinger  of  his  right 
hand  up  to  the  bridge  of  his  spectacles,  and 
giving  John  a  pleasant  look,  went  on  : 

"  Sir,  my  boy,  I  have  watched  your  career  in 
Harvard  and  I  am  pleased  with  you."  This 
was  a  great  deal  for  Dr.  Tyler  to  say.  John 
was  satisfied. 

"  I  wanted  to  come  up  and  tell  you  "  —  he  fal- 
tered. His  eyes  spoke  the  rest.  Uncle  Jim 
laid  his  hand  on  the  lad's  shoulder  with  a 
fatherly  and  affectionate  touch.  He  was  as 
tender  as  a  woman,  but  it  was  a  part  of  his 
theory  of  discipline  not  to  let  any  one  suspect 
it  if  he  could  help  it.  Such  a  slight  demonstra- 
tion as  this  was  rare,  even  for  a  returned  pu- 
pil to  experience.  John  arose.  His  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  The  teacher  coughed  and  bustled  a 
little  ;  he  spoke  abruptly  : 

"  I  am  busy  now,  John  ;  and  you  will  want  to 
see  the  old  boys  and  the  old  place.  You  stay 
till  Monday  ?  Then  I  hope  to  see  you  at  my 
Biblical  to-morrow  morning,  as  usual,  sir." 


324  DEAR   OLD   ANDOVER! 

He  gave  the  boy  a  hearty  hand-shake  and 
waved  him  away.  The  Principal  stood  straight 
by  his  desk  looking  as  vigorous  and  as  uncom- 
promising and  as  severe  as  ever.  But  John 
knew  now  what  Uncle  Jim  was. 

That  evening,  as  the  theologue  and  the 
Freshman  were  walking  slowly  up  from  their 
theological  supper,  with  John  Calvin  half  a  mile 
ahead  yelping  after  a  yellow  cat,  Roger  asked 
his  cousin  in  the  most  casual  manner : 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  How  would  you  like  to 
run  down  for  a  few  minutes  and  call  on  — er  — 
Miss  Marks  ?  She  said  she  would  be  happy  to 
see  you  when  you  came.  She  will  never  forget 
your  gallantry  in  the  woods  —  one  might  almost 
call  it  gall-errantry."  Roger  laughed  at  his 
atrocious  pun,  and  John  had  nothing  to  do  but 
to  join  in  merrily  at  his  own  expense.  John  had 
been  thinking  a  little  about  the  Fern.  Sem.,  but 
his  thoughts  had  not  embraced  Miss  Marks. 
In  the  meanwhile  John  Calvin,  whether  through 
some  subtle  process  of  mind-reading  not  ex- 
pected of  canine  psychology,  or  from  a  pious 
Saturday  evening  habit,  had  given  up  the  cat, 


DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER  !  325 

and  had  started  down  the  road  to  Abbott  Acad- 
emy. It  was  not  hard  for  either  young  man  to 
"right  about  face"  and  follow  the  dog's  intelli- 
gent lead. 

Of  course  John  had  thought  much  of  Miss 
Elva.  How  could  he  help  it  ?  But  call  upon 
her  ?  He  would  as  soon  thought  of  sending  up 
his  card  to  the  mistress  of  the  White  House. 
Really,  this  simple  courtesy  never  occurred  to 
him  as  possible  to  him.  That  modest  school- 
girl seemed  as  far  out  of  his  way  as  any  queen 
of  society  in  the  great  world. 

Miss  Marks  appeared  without  delay,  and  wel- 
comed John  with  unusual  warmth  of  manner. 
She  herself  suggested  that  she  should  call  in 
Miss  Selfrich,  who  would  be  pleased  to  see  him 
in  Andover.  Then  Elva  glided  in,  charming  in 
a  white  woollen  house  dress.  She  stood  smiling 
at  John  and  glancing  with  just  the  least  embar- 
rassment at  Roger  and  Miss  Marks.  It  is  to 
be  feared  that  Elva  was  the  only  one  in  Ando- 
ver who  was  thoroughly  surprised  at  John's 
visit.  But  she  took  it  very  kindly.  How  bright 
she  looked  !  How  white  !  She  seemed  to  shine 


326  DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER  ! 

like  an  altar  candle  before  the  perplexed  boy. 
But  Elva  herself  was  not  wholly  at  her  ease. 

"  Oh !  how  you  have  improved,  Mr.  Strong. 
Hasn't  he  ? "  she  said  hurriedly,  turning  to 
Roger.  Calvin  yapped  to  help  on  the  conver- 
sation, and  licked  her  white  hand.  And  then, 
feeling  that  she  had  said  just  the  wrong  thing 
—  for  what  boy  after  a  certain  age  likes  to  be 
told  that  he  has  grown,  or  that  he  has  a  mus- 
tache, or  that  he  is  improved?  —  she  apologized, 
and  said  he  hadn't,  which  made  matters  con- 
siderably worse.  She  then  supported  her  origi- 
nal statement,  and  Miss  Marks,  seeing  her 
well-bred  pupil  confused  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  came  to  her  relief,  and  asked  John  if  he 
had  killed  any  more  constrictors  in  Cambridge. 
They  laughed,  and  chatted,  and  laughed  again. 
John  was  the  hero  of  the  evening.  They  drew 
him  out,  and  made  him  talk  about  himself,  until 
the  shy  boy  felt  ashamed  of  his  compulsory 
egoism. 

"And  I  am  sure  you  will  come  and  see  us 
the  next  time  you  come  to  Andover.  We  ex- 
pect great  things  of  you,"  said  Miss  Marks. 


DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER !  327 

Miss  Marks  had  never  been  so  gracious  to  any 
Academy  boy  within  the  memory  of  that  race 
of  Fem.  Sems.  John  bowed  in  dazed  delight. 
And  now  for  the  first  time  in  their  acquaintance, 
Elva,  in  bidding  him  good-by,  gave  him  her  hand. 
He  fancied  that  hers  lingered  for  a  brief  second 
in  his,  perhaps  as  a  sister's  might. 

"  I'm  a  better  fellow  for  knowing  her,"  thought 
John,  as  he  followed  his  gayer  cousin  silently 
out  into  the  winter  night.  "  I  wonder  why  ?  " 

Sunday  morning  dawned  clear  as  a  clarion, 
but  very  cold.  The  sun  did  his  best,  but  noth- 
ing melted.  The  ice  turned  a  gray  cheek  to 
the  sky.  The  trees  had  a  slight  glaze  ;  their 
coat  of  icicles  was  thin,  and  would  not  outlast 
noon,  but  it  was  burning  bright.  The  snow 
was  crusted  and  blazed.  The  broad  Seminary 
grounds  looked  like  the  Sea  of  Glass. 

John  Strong,  with  the  imagination  of  a  reli- 
giously educated  boy,  thought  of  this  on  his 
way  to  the  Academy  at  nine  o'clock.  He  had 
accepted  Dr.  Tyler's  invitation  to  the  "Bibli- 
cal," and  went  happily  enough  now  that  he  did 


328  DEAR    OLD     ANDOVER ! 

not  have  to  go.  This  was  quite  another  matter. 
He  wondered  that  he  ever  found  it  such  a  drag. 
But  this  Bible  lesson  was  considered  by  the 
boys  the  least  bore  of  all  the  compulsory  Sun- 
day services.  John  ascended  the  two  flights  of 
stairs  in  the  great  brick  building  to  the  chapel. 
The  whole  school,  being  obliged  to  attend, 
climbed  with  him.  Here  the  timid  "  Prep." 
who  used  to  room  opposite  to  John,  shook 
hands  quite  boldly,  for  he  was  now  a  Junior 
Middler.  And  here  the  Seniors  to  a  man 
greeted  the  returned  P.  A.  boy.  John  had  been 
very  popular  with  them  when  they  were  Mid- 
dlers,  for  the  sake  of  Doc.,  and  everybody  was 
glad  to  see  him.  And  here  and  there  a  new 
"Prep."  nudged  an  upper-class-man  and  inquired 
who  that  strange  fellow  was. 

"Why,  that's  Strong,  the  famous  pitcher. 
Won  the  Exeter  game.  Great  dig,  too  !  Bones 
for  rank  !  At  Harvard  now.  Look  at  him  — 
plucky  chap  —  born  lame." 

John  entered  the  large  hall  with  quickly  beat- 
ing heart,  and  took  a  back  seat.  The  sun  glit- 
tered through  the  white  glass  windows  and 


DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER  !  329 

seemed  to  him  to  lift  those  three  hundred  rest- 
less students  out  of  the  real  into  a  quiet  dream. 

Then  there  came  a  sudden  hush.  It  meant  a 
mark  to  be  found  chatting  when  Uncle  Jim 
mounted  the  platform.  The  Principal's  eyes 
swept  the  assembly.  They  did  not  seem  to  the 
Seniors  on  the  front  seat  as  inexorable  as  usual. 
They  quickly  singled  John  out,  and  a  gentle  but 
authoritative  gesture  bade  him  come  up  on  to 
the  platform.  This  was  quite  an  ordeal  for 
John.  The  two  teachers,  flanking  the  Princi- 
pal, arose,  shook  hands,  and  offered  him  a  red- 
covered  chair.  This  invitation  to  the  platform 
is  a  courteous  honor  that  Andover  still  pays  to 
its  returning  graduates.  The  school  now  broke 
into  a  low  ripple  of  applause,  which  was  speedily 
checked  by  the  well-known  motion  of  the  Prin- 
cipal's hand.  John's  welcome  to  Andover  was 
an  ovation  on  a  small  scale,  but  as  sincere  as, 
and  more  spontaneous  than,  many  a  public 
demonstration  offered  to  some  showy  political 
candidate. 

Uncle  Jim  was  always  absorbed  in  his  Sunday 
morning  "Biblical."  He  believed  in  it  enthusi- 


33O  DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER ! 

astically  as  an  educational  power.  Sitting  in  his 
chair  before  the  whole  school,  with  one  hand 
upon  the  open  Bible,  and  with  the  other  empha- 
sizing his  talks  with  terse  gestures,  he  became  to 
hundreds  of  boys  during  his  long  Principalship 
an  inspiring  force,  a  stimulus,  a  Moses  to  lead 
them  to  the  land  of  achievement  and  of  promise. 

John  Strong  was  not  the  only  one  that  morn- 
ing who  was  deeply  touched.  The  boys  felt 
that  the  exercise  was  somehow  different  from 
the  usual  lesson.  They  could  not  have  explained 
how  or  why.  It  was  remembered  long  afterward 
that  they  were  especially  moved  by  his  manner 
and  by  his  tone.  The  students  looked  with  awe, 
and  many  with  deep  affection,  upon  the  Arnold 
of  America.  They  felt  that  day  a  peculiar  sym- 
pathy with  the  great  heart,  which  at  the  time 
they  could  not  comprehend. 

John  listened  to  his  master  with  the  kind  of 
docility  which  only  great  gratitude  lends  to  a 
boy's  mind.  Perhaps  he  had  grown  to  idealize 
his  teacher  a  little.  He  thought  not ;  but  if  he 
did,  it  was  better  than  to  underrate  him,  as 
some  have  done.  The  relation  between  these 


DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER  !  33! 

two  had  now  reached  its  best  and  highest  level, 
and  to  the  fatherless  boy  his  old  teacher  was 
the  noblest  man  he  knew. 

The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  was  Dr.  Tyler's 
subject  that  winter's  morning.  It  was  remem- 
bered that  he  dwelt  long  on  the  verse,  "Blessed 
are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God." 
The  boys  listened  to  that  lesson ;  some  of  them 
made  high  resolves  —  a  few  kept  them.  Uncle 
Jim  was  firm  and  exacting,  but,  give  him  a 
chance,  he  made  men  of  his  boys ;  and,  after 
all,  that  is  the  test  of  a  great  teacher. 

What  was  the  matter  with  Uncle  Jim's  last 
prayer  that  morning?  The  boys  could  not  help 
hearing  it  if  they  would.  They  were  startled 
by  its  intensity.  John  was  greatly  awed.  His 
face  fell  into  his  hands.  The  Principal  departed 
from  his  usual  forms,  and  prayed  for  the  needs 
of  his  students  as  those  august  Academy  walls 
had  never  heard  him  pray  before.  He  prayed 
for  the  boys  in  their  temptations  ;  for  strength 
in  their  struggles  ;  that  they  might  have  pure 
hearts,  and  lead  simple,  manly  lives.  "And, 


332  DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER  ! 

Father,  sanctify  these  my  boys  in  the  truth, 
that  the  love  wherewith  Thou  loved'st  Jesus 
may  be  in  them  and  they  in  Thee.  Amen." 

The  "  Biblical  "  was  over.  With  puzzled  and 
gentle  looks  the  boys  moved  apart,  and  feet  that 
stamped  upstairs,  crept  softly  down. 

The  master  beckoned  to  John  Strong,  who 
obeyed  the  signal  with  glad  respect.  The  Prin- 
cipal seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  away.  The 
two  walked  quickly  through  the  ante-room,  and 
met  the  stream  of  boys  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
John  walked  close  beside  Uncle  Jim  ;  and  as  they 
emerged  from  the  door  the  students  parted  with 
more  than  usual  deference.  The  bitter  winter 
air  rushed  up.  It  smote  the  Principal  in  the 
face,  and  he  seemed  to  recoil  from  it. 

"Your  arm,  John  ! "  he  said  quickly. 

John  tenderly  gave  the  strong  right  arm  that 
had  been  trained  in  the  Gym. 

The  Principal  walked  down  the  first  flight  of 
stairs  unsteadily.  At  the  foot,  opposite  the 
threshold  of  his  own  class-room,  surrounded  by 
his  boys,  and  leaning  on  John,  he  fell,  like  a 
soldier  shot. 


DEAR     OLD     ANDOVER !  333 

"  He's  tripped  !  " 

"  Stand  back  !  " 

"  Give  him  air  !  " 

"  Hold  him  up  !  " 

"  Send  for  the  doctor  !  " 

"He's  hurt  himself!" 

"  He's  faint !  " 

But  John  had  laid  his  ear,  trained  at  the  side 
of  poor  Doc.,  upon  the  heart  of  the  prostrate 
man.  He  lifted  a  face  almost  as  gray  as  that 
other,  and  tried  to  speak  firmly,  but  faltered, 
and  broke  down  before  them  all. 

"No,  boys,  no!  he  is  not  faint  —  he's  dead!" 

When  it  was  all  over,  and  they  had  laid  him 
to  rest  in  the  snow-clad  chapel  cemetery,  John, 
with  crape  on  his  arm,  returned  to  Harvard. 
It  took  the  boy  time  to  recover  from  the  smit- 
ing stroke.  But  even  the  shocks  of  life  have 
their  own  solemn  place,  which  nothing  else 
can  fill ;  and  through  the  gates  of  that  youthful 
sorrow,  John  passed  into  the  useful  and  happy 
manhood  which  his  old  master  would  have  been 
proud  to  see. 


IIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIMI  ••'•'" 

A     000118520     6 


